


Second Chances for a Silver Fox

by ohdrey89



Series: Second Chances for a Silver Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Divorced Lestrade, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Feels, First Love, Hurt Lestrade, I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Lestrade-centric, My First Fanfic, Period Typical Attitudes, Plotbunnies gone wild, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Silver Fox Lestrade, So Wrong It's Right, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags Are Fun, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Victorian Attitudes, Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 140,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdrey89/pseuds/ohdrey89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade considers himself an old, broken man, with little hope of finding happiness. Married to his work and divorced from a whore for an ex-wife, he's placed himself into forced exile from polite society, so there is little chance of remarrying. He is alone and left to pass the rest of his life arresting evil doers, protecting London, and running around after the Great Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. That's all that's left for him, isn't there? Not if he follows his heart, that seems to beat again with a flourish when he notices a similar feeling echoed in the eyes of a mousy, clumsy woman by the name of Miss. Molly Hooper. They start a courtship, and only one question remains: Is marriage the outcome? Stay Tuned...</p><p>Molly Hooper always thought herself alone, exiled by choice to look after her father and keep the house for him, training to take over her father's coroner practice when he dies. She was on a path straight to spinsterhood, just like her Aunt Evelyn. But when fate sends her love in the form of a silver fox that goes by the title Detective Inspector, will she be able to grasp onto it? Will she fight for it when confronted by the scars life has left on him? What of his family's approval? Only fate knows...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Watson Enjoys his Breakfast, But the Game is On!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning at 221B sets the typical scene, a murder inquiry, Lestrade asking for the world's only Consulting Detective but Sherlock says something to tease Lestrade exposing for Queen and country the shades of Lestrade's heart. He doesn't have much hope since he is divorced, but there's no time for that when the Game is on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, this is my first attempt at a story on Ao3, I hope I finish it for all of your sake, as I have a tendency to leave projects... unfinished. *dodges books and tomatoes* Sorry. Those are my angry readers from fanfiction.net. I promise to be better here, as I am more serious than ever to my writing.
> 
> I'm not going to apologize for the romantic fluffiness that follows in this story. This is just what happens in my brain. Flights of fancy of a silly girl, I can't help myself. Nor will I apologize for the fact that this is an open confession of my love for Greg Lestrade, and yes most especially that manly silver fox that plays him. I know you all understand me and love him too. In fact, it got so far away from me that I ended up with this story, and you all get to enjoy the spoils.
> 
> Keep in mind that while you read this, there are details from Sherlock that are changed so that they line up with the Victorian Era that the original stories were written in. Things like Molly not being a doctor, trading in Watson's jumpers for vests... you get the idea. Basically undoing all the good work that Moffat and Gatiss (All Hail Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, Hail!) have done to blow the Victorian fog off the series. I'm blowing it back over them. Just picture everyone from Sherlock, but dressed in Victorian clothing, as that is really what happened inside my head when the plotbunnies started chewing at my plot wires again.
> 
> Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

 

_Early Morning_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

\---

 

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade rapped upon the familiar door marked 221, pulling his frock coat closer to his person to ward against chill brought on by the cold, thick London fog that prevailed upon the morning. Mrs. Hudson greeted him with a knowing frown, it could only mean another murder, another mystery, making her tenant once again a man of action instead of the unbearable pile of boredom he currently was, however it meant the death of another poor soul. Lestrade nodded in greeting, not much for words when he had a mission to complete and moved passed her to the stairs that led to the second floor apartment he had come to be endlessly familiar. Lestrade pushed his way through and was standing in the sitting room of 221B Baker Street in a moment’s haste, removing his bowler hat to reveal his silver hair. By all accounts it was comfortable, with a proper fire blazing from the hearth and two familiar forms of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson sitting over the remains of their English breakfast.

\---

Before him was a familiar sight, Holmes in his usual repose, hands posed under his nose in concentrative prayer, looking expectantly at Lestrade with a raised eyebrow as if he had known of Lestrade being there before he did, and Dr. Watson reading the paper over his morning tea, still hot with steam rolling out from the lip of the bone china cup sitting in its saucer, the accompanying plate licked clean of his breakfast. They were the picture of English bachelors living in perfect civility. At least as nearly perfect as civility could be when one was a Doctor living with the world’s only Consulting Detective, a man who was known to playing the violin at all odd hours, created experiments that reeked of unknowable smells, shot walls, and often was given to bouts of unknowable boredom, and melancholy. He spent that time drowning in drunkenness and stoned on a seven percent solution of cocaine against his trustworthy Doctor’s wishes. However since the doctor had been a frequent resident Dr. Watson sought to end his dependence upon the drug, even if it did calm his genius addled mind. Yes, Sherlock Holmes’s habits made for a life that would hardly be considered by society as the peek of civility but John Watson wouldn't have it any other way.

Holmes noticed the subtle hesitation in Lestrade as he eyed Watson, whose back was to Lestrade and too engrossed in the boring banality to be found in the English gossip columns of his paper. Watson was a new edition to Holmes’s practice, a reliable doctor fresh from the horrors of the Afghan war, and not someone that Lestrade was ready to trust with details of Scotland Yard cases. Allowing the consultation of Holmes was one thing, he wasn't quite ready to trust Watson as freely as Holmes. Holmes rolled his eyes and stood. “Really Detective Inspector, this is tiresome. I told you before, Dr. John Watson is one of the most trustworthy and capable men I have ever met and to acquire my assistance on these cases, you must have him in our little confidences. You know I won‘t work without him.” Sherlock Holmes announced standing before Lestrade fully dressed but wrapped in his dressing gown, eyes keen to begin the case, black curls bobbing as he looked to John and back again as John snapped his paper to a new page. Watson looked up to Lestrade and Sherlock smiling, glad for proof that Sherlock did indeed find him as much of a friend as John found him to be. The few months in which they had lived together and solved cases together had solidified the burgeoning friendship. Watson turned back to his paper reaching down unseeing to take a long draw from his china cup, his sandy hair shifting in the light.

“Thanks mate, but that still won’t make me tell you where I've hidden that cigarette shoe stash of yours. You promised. Cold Turkey, and you've been doing well of breaking that awful habit of yours.” John Watson chuckled thinking he knew what Sherlock was up to.

“Oh come now, John don’t be so unobservant. Graham Lestrade is here, there’s a case that needs solving, I couldn't possibly be desperate for a smoke now. There’s something much more tempting for us out there in this fair city. All that remains is for Lestrade to direct us to the latest murder.” Sherlock smiled joyfully at the thought of a new case to distract him.

“It’s Greg, if you please.” Lestrade groused to Sherlock. “And yes, there’s a new case. Regent’s park. It will be rough going in this fog. I have no idea why people assume that a fog makes for a good stage for a murder. But it looks fresh, I've already got my boys sectioning off the area for you. Will you come?” Lestrade turned his pleading eyes on the both of them.

“Criminals assume that if a fog conceals them, they can get away with anything. We know better. Of course I’ll help, the details of this case are proving interesting already. At least the setting adds for a fair bit of drama, which should improve John’s fanciful tales. But we’ll be right behind, meet you there.” Sherlock confirmed as he took off his dressing gown to get ready to leave. Lestrade breathed a sigh of relief and turned to make a hasty exit. “Quick question before you go, Lestrade. Who will be doing the autopsy?”

“Anderson, if you’ll let him.” Lestrade smirked knowing the answer he was going to get.

“Never, you know Anderson is an idiot. He won’t work with me, won’t give me access to the body that I need if I’m to solve the case.“

“Maybe that’s because you call him an idiot to his face.” Lestrade groused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as if this was unimportant, it was to him and continued. “Once I've finished the crime scene have the body sent to Doctor Hooper’s. You know the address.” Sherlock threw on his coat with a grin, John slapped his paper onto the table, hating being disturbed during his morning paper by a new case and set about buttoning up his sweater vest and putting his coats and hat on as well.

Sherlock’s piercing blue gaze was something that Lestrade didn't want to investigate. He knew that Sherlock could see, if Watson was a little more observant he would see it too. There’s a reason why Lestrade gave in to Sherlock using a private Doctor instead of their Yard approved Medical Examiners, but at the moment Lestrade tried not to distract himself with that reason. There was work to be done. He didn't have the time to divert himself with ruminating over the thought of a pair of fine honey brown eyes, as fine as the rest of the face and figure of one Miss. Molly Hooper, daughter and assistant of Dr. Samuel Hooper.

Sherlock had deduced from their very first meeting that Lestrade and Miss. Hooper had an instant attraction, announcing the reasons in great detail, in front of the girl’s father, and embarrassed them, making Miss. Hooper blush a pretty shade of rose that Lestrade would think upon when he couldn’t sleep, but that had been a few years ago. Time had altered many things. Lestrade was older and back then he had been married, and he’s even more sure now than before that there was nothing about him that would be called attractive in Miss. Hooper’s eyes. Most especially now that he was divorced, and married to his work. Now though, that Sherlock knew of his crush, whenever possible he had Dr. Hooper do all of the autopsies he could, to Lestrade’s consternation. He couldn’t believe that he let Sherlock dupe him into doing so, but really he looked forward to any excuse to see Molly. He would wait around while Sherlock and Dr. Hooper did experiments and discussed the bodies on the man’s slab as they established cause of death. He would take tea in the parlor with Miss. Hooper for a bit and try to get her to blush again as she rambled. He would watch her move around doing housework, popping in and out of the Doctor’s examination room to check on their progress to not keep Lestrade waiting, and really compared to the work of Examiners at the Yard, Hooper’s work far exceeded theirs, which was good enough for Sherlock Holmes.

He closed the door to the flat hearing Holmes announce as if he were on stage, “Come Watson, we have a case! The game is on!” Sherlock could barely contain his glee. Lestrade only hoped that the fog cleared and the murderer was found before more bodies turned up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please feel free to leave comments and kudos. Everyone likes knowing that their writing is appreciated. I hope I didn't make anyone too ill with the sweetness of the fluff, I have nothing to offer you in way of repayment other than more chapters. My pockets are not rich enough to cover the dentists' bills to have your teeth pulled as they would probably be rotting if you read more. Please read more, I'd like to know that while I'm rotting your teeth I'm making those that enjoy this story happier for having read it.


	2. A Case of Murder & a Not so Mild Flirtation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A murder to solve, a Molly to admire. These are the shades of Lestrade's desire.
> 
> (Ick, did I just rhyme?) Our story continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be posting quite a bit, as I wrote so much I couldn't keep it from the world any longer. Consider it a very large installment, my plot machines really turned this out without stopping. There is a case, or maybe more, in this story, for Holmes and Watson to make appearances but this is Lestrade-centric (note the tags) and I know that the case(s) I write will not be fantastic enough to really be noteworthy of Sherlock's canon attention but I beg you to just go along with it. See them for more of what their roles are in this story, the sarcastic/snarky/comedic relief. Also, reaching out to all those sensitive to the fact, this is a murder scene, with mentions of the details of the body. Don't like it? You can skim through until the chapter's break and there you'll find the later fluffy bits, they're there somewhere I promise.
> 
> Fair warning this is where the fluff begins. Also, I might be changing the Rating on this story to something naughtier later on, we'll see. Forgot to mention that before, so with the second chapter comes the general warning of "Brace yourself, laddies!"
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

  **Chapter 2**

**A Case of Murder & a Not so Mild Flirtation**

 

\---

 

_Regent's Park, Later that Morning_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

The park normally a scene of English normality, where the upper classes were able to socialize and partake of acceptable exercise, was full of policemen, the most courting off the section that Sherlock was itching to investigate. The two men arrived upon the scene, strolling up as if they had every right to be there, which to certain parts of Scotland Yard, they didn't. However both Sherlock and John Watson could ignore those glares and glances of annoyance, all that mattered was the case and the work it entailed. They arrived and encountered a woman laying on the ground in front of a bench, her body in the direction of the walk and appeared as though she had been reaching out to grab someone, her other hand holding her muff, her skirt was pushed almost unseemly up her legs, there were runs in her stockings and left shoe was found kicked off a yard or two away from her body, the corresponding stocking clad foot was covered in dirt. To Sherlock‘s trained eye, all obvious signs of a struggle.

“We've identified the poor young lady.” Lestrade announced waving Holmes and Watson over to the scene of the murder. Watson went straight to the body at Holmes’s nod and started to make his usual cursory examination. While Holmes looked around, the fog still thick on the ground. “She’s a governess for the Miller family. They live over in Cheapside, near Mr. Miller‘s factories. Not a very prominent family but they made a fortune in trade. Victim’s name is Caroline Greyston, 23, from out of town but no relation to the Millers. That explains her liking to walk around alone early in the morning, Mr. Miller came to confirm the identity and said that while he didn't advise it, she still went on these morning walks. She didn't think she’d encounter anyone at such an early hour in this part of London. The girl has no living family according to Mr. Miller‘s knowledge, but the bobby that found her has been having a mild flirtation with her during her morning walks that coincide with his morning route, and was able to identify her. He was anxious to see her because of the fog but she didn't meet in their usual place. He said he heard a scuffle in the distance and walked over, mindful of the fog, until he found her like this, he confirmed her to be dead but that‘s it, he assures me that he didn't touch her otherwise, not even to protect her modesty. He’s heard stories of you in the Strand Holmes and whistled for back up, leaving the scene exactly as he found it. Poor lad.” Lestrade concluded with a sad shake of his head. Bad business this, and unfortunately there was no one to care about the girl, to bury her. 

“Yes well, lucky for us, this doesn't present that much of a mystery.” Sherlock smiled confidently. After examining her legs, he ruled out rape and quickly covered her up. “One thing is for certain, and thank heavens, the poor child wasn't assaulted sexually.” Some of the policemen grumbled at this, but they were unheard. Sherlock continued his examination, once again displaying traits one would normally associate with a bloodhound, Lestrade could tell that he was keen that he was onto something already. He had only been on the scene for five minutes.

“Holmes I believe she was strangled. Bare hands it looks like, cause of death appears to be suffocation due to the strangulation but won’t be sure until the autopsy. I think you’d be able to recover some fingerprints from the body. But I believe you are right, there are no signs of anything done to her person other than that. Everything else simply appears to be signs of her struggle to fight.” Watson concluded standing up.

“Almost correct Watson, but never fear I believe I have solved it, I simply need some more data from the autopsy and word from my homeless network to confirm my theories. I shall explain on the way. Come, Watson!” Holmes was already on the move to pick up another cab that would take them to Dr. Hooper’s place. “See you at the Hooper residence Lestrade!” Holmes called when he tried to get their attention. He sighed and proceeded to finish cleaning up the crime scene, the sooner he was finished there the sooner he could see Molly Hooper.

 

\---

 

After a thorough investigation of the crime scene, Sherlock declared the case fairly simple to Watson, showing once again a clear explanation and direction for all the evidence he noticed at the scene of the crime and only needed to confirm his suspicions of the cause of death, which led Greg Lestrade to facing the door of the Hooper residence. The place was small but comfortable, a black and white home of Victorian construction. Well maintained with little homey touches inside and out, like the violets hanging from the windows that were only just beginning to bloom with the melting frost of early spring, the place showed all sorts of signs of Miss. Hooper’s influence and therefore was a favorite place of Lestrade’s. He knocked on the door, unsurprised that Molly herself answered the door. His heart hammered away seeing the way her eyes lit up upon seeing him. He reached out to kiss her hand as she greeted him, he kissed her hand and gave her a smile that used to charm all young ladies. From her stutter it still worked, it took her a full minute before she could speak properly.

“Detective Inspector! So glad to see you! Please do come in, they’ve only just gotten started.” Molly announced with a fond smile, she showed him the way to parlor, although he knew the house like the back of his hand. He took his familiar seat on the settee.

“Thank you Miss. Hooper, you can call me Lestrade, Gregory or Greg even. Detective Inspector seems like an awful mouthful.” He grinned, noting the slight coloring of her cheeks when she caught his eyes over the teapot she was pouring, the tea had been waiting for his arrival. She didn’t even need to ask how he took his tea anymore.

“Of course, Lestrade, but I suppose there is no need to encourage you to call me Molly. You would much rather call me Miss. Hooper. Nor would I try to press myself upon a gentleman‘s sense of propriety.” She smiled knowingly as she passed him his tea before pouring her own.

He accepted his with thanks, needing the warmth provided by the steaming cup of tea after having stood in the cold fog all morning before it cleared only by being blown away by a cold London breeze. She offered him a plate of fruit tarts before sitting in the chair next to the settee. They unknowingly almost sat knee to knee. He watched her take a sip of her tea before going back to the occupation he had interrupted. 

She was folding laundry. Usually this would be an unseemly activity to take part in, especially in front of a gentleman such as Lestrade. After helping one’s father cut open cadavers and their frequent discussion of the murders and crimes Lestrade had seen, there seemed little point in minding what polite Victorian Society dictated as correct parlor behavior. Molly Hooper had a household to run all by herself, Lestrade was aware of that fact, and couldn't stop everything that she had to do in a day to accomplish that just to hold high tea, and Lestrade was usually waiting for a few hours at least. Her father’s abysmal salary as a coroner and a doctor for the dead left little to spend on such frivolous things such as servants or maids. Molly Hooper while polite and to Lestrade a representation of everything that was good and right in the world, wasn't one for tiptoeing around politesse, or wasting time with such trivial things, when there was work to be done. Qualities that Lestrade admired. But Molly, he noticed, did tip toe around one thing, that was the connection  between them that was quite frankly very palpable to him. Lestrade wondered if she felt the same way. 

“No, Miss. Hooper you’re right about that. May I ask what you’re doing?” Lestrade was curious seeing undergarments that looked to be a woman’s being folded in front of him. He pleaded with God above that they weren't Miss. Hooper’s delicates. He wouldn't be able to recover their conversation, and make whatever would follow anything but awkward.

“Oh! Don’t mind me, this is the cook‘s laundry. I was just finishing up. The wash girl that she usually hires doesn't like to do the folding or mending so I offer to do it for her.” She put the last pile of under things in a basket and left the room to quickly put them out into the hallway, and returned to sit at the table where her ledgers sat. Unembarrassed by the fact that Miss. Hooper kept the account books for her father, Greg smiled affectionately in her direction, at complete ease even though he was in the middle of a case. In his mind, it was a comfort to know that she could keep a very neat and prosperous house on very little economies, especially without a housekeeper or maids helping her with maintenance. “There that’s better. I hope you don’t mind, I have gained quite the momentum with my chores today, and would like to keep up the pace. Father hates to see me doing chores or looking at the ledgers in the evening, it reminds him of the fact that he can’t afford a housekeeper to do the work around the house. He has so many talents, like Sherlock. But we both know maintaining a home is a talent neither one of them could ever possess.” Molly and Greg both laughed together at that. She turned to her ledgers trying to hide her blush, making notations and turning pages to look at the house’s expenditures. She didn't notice Greg rise and pick up her tea cup to bring it to her side, she simply continued to scratch away with her quill and count figures in her head. He smiled fondly as she was completely ignorant of the fact that he was crossing the room to join her. She gasped when the cup appeared at her elbow on the table, she looked up to see directly into Greg’s eyes.

“I think your father should be very proud that you manage the house with such efficiency and expertise. Few ladies are as talented at keeping a house running like you can without help. A very admirable quality I think.” Lestrade concluded licking his lips, an unconscious motion that always had Molly mesmerized. He leaned against the desk casually sipping at his own tea. Molly was finding it very hard to maintain her composure with Greg being so close, his cologne was very distracting. Obviously he had very little knowledge of how easily he could effect her composure. She put her pen back in its holder, there was no way to concentrate on the figures in front of her with this man standing so near.

“Lestrade,” Molly began rising from her seat to cross the room, perching on the settee opposite them that Lestrade himself had previously vacated.

“Greg.” Lestrade corrected with a lazy smile crossing the room almost as if he was a fox prowling after his prey, coming over to sit next to her, taking her hand.

“Gregory.” Molly turned away slightly, not enough to be rude, but enough to dislodge his grasp of her hand so that she could return her hand to the other gripping the fabric of her skirt in her lap. If she was going to state herself plainly, him holding her hand wasn’t going to help. “I can’t help but notice that during your visits here you've shown a bit of a… a…” She hated when she struggled to find her words.

“A what?” Greg questioned with a grin turning her back to face him a firm grasp of her elbow.

“A certain partiality towards me.” She demurred and blushed looking away, feeling enormously shy in the face of trying to get them to have a serious discussion of their true feelings before Sherlock came bursting in announcing their findings and sending Lestrade out into the world again.

She always worried for the Detective Inspector, even though he didn't walk the streets regularly anymore like the other bobbies did. That didn't stop her from praying for his protection fervently every Sunday morning in church. Her father never understood her obsession, his realities rooted firmly in the factual and scientific as well as her own, but if Lestrade still showed up to her door every time a body did for her father’s examination, then she would continue to do so. It was a ritual she felt kept him safe, and she couldn't give it up.

“Yes, you could say that, you are by far one of my favorite people. I like nothing better than spending time with you Miss. Hooper, while waiting for Sherlock and your father to examine away downstairs.” Lestrade used his other hand to encourage her to look at him with a gentle pressure under her chin. Her light brown eyes met his and the rest of the world faded away.

“My favorite times of the day are when you come to visit as well. I look forward to it every week.” Molly admitted while searching his eyes. She could see nothing but happiness at this revelation. What she failed notice until she was wrapped in the masculine smells of the Detective Inspector was that his arm came around to bring her forward. Her hands found their way to his jacket lapels on instinct, their faces inches apart. If he tried pulling her closer, she would most inappropriately be in his lap. She sighed his name, her brain telling her how wrong this was, to submit to him so willingly but unable to stop her face from inching towards his. “Greg…” She sighed, smelling his breath that was both sweet and dark, like chocolate.

“Molly…” Lestrade closed the gap between them and embraced her in a hard firm kiss against her lips, letting his lips sweep across hers. This felt like an opportunity he wouldn't have again and he wasn't going to pass it up by letting Molly make a quick get away. He kept his grip on her torso firm. His other hand skimming up her back to cradle her neck, fingers weaving into the gentle curls at the back of her neck, and stray wisps of hair that had tumbled out of her bun throughout the day. She sighed in contentment against his lips before he pulled away. The moment died as quickly as it started. Lestrade pulled away putting distance between them again and his hands once again found themselves holding hers, that rested against his chest. She couldn't help but tremble inside at the feeling of his heart hammering against her palms. He searched her face, looking for signs that she was happy with his advances.

Molly for her part could hardly recall a more pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Her eyes seemingly lost and in a far away place. She shook herself mentally before resting her eyes on Lestrade. His ears were an adorable shade of pink and his warm brown eyes were looking at her expectantly. At her smile and return of his grasp of her hands, he sighed in relief.

“Would it be alright, might it be possible, could I? Look at me fumbling for words, I think your condition has caught up with me!” He chuckled at her blushing acknowledgement of her lack of finesse in her speech when trying to speak to him. “May I ask for you permission to call upon you? I would like to very much.” Lestrade let his fingers move up her wrist of their own accord, fingering the lace of her sleeve that he found there.

“I believe Gregory that for a Detective Inspector you’re horribly unobservant.” Molly chuckled at his stupefied face at this response. She dissolved into further giggles when his face went from confused to flustered and just a bit peeved.

“Molly!” The gruff way Greg said her name in warning brought chills down her spine.

“Gregory.” She dimpled thinking herself witty for a change.

“Please have pity on this old man. Don‘t tease.” He smiled as he moved in to whisper this in her ear, causing her to blush again, this was one thing he would never get tired of doing to her, he longed for the days that he couldn't make her blush so easily and would have to try harder and harder to meet the challenge of doing so. Now though with their affection for each other so newly exposed it was easy, and much to his detriment for it being so.

“Alright, sir, but you’re hardly what I would call old. You’re only ten years my senior. That being one of your more attractive features. But I believe since we've kissed and I let you, you have free reign now to call whenever you like.” She loved the surprised excitement on his face, wondering why he would think his age would bother her at all. 

“Really? You like that I’m older?” Greg was so caught up in her liking his age, he missed the point of her speech.

“Yes! I prefer you that way, all silver and quite dashing.” Molly fingered the fringe of his bangs as she exposed one of her greatest secrets. At night she dreamed of him and his silver hair. It was probably one of the reasons she liked him best. His premature graying made him unique and distinguished.

“Dashing, eh?” Greg smiled, like a fox in a hen house, leaning in to kiss her jawline. He rumbled a chuckle through his chest when she squirmed, she was ticklish apparently. That knowledge made him feel more indecent than it should have at that moment. They never noticed the opening of the cellar door.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade you can assault and court Miss. Hooper later, I've deduced who the culprit is and we need to move fast if we’re going to catch them.” They broke apart so fast that Greg almost upending a book that was sitting on the table next to his elbow. Sherlock was smirking putting on his blue scarf and gloves, with Dr. Hooper growing a slight shade of red at his elbow, Watson was doing his best to mind the wallpaper around the room as he stood behind them, his back ram rod straight. The old man didn't quite stand for his only child and daughter being manhandled, even if that man was the best Detective Inspector in all of Scotland Yard. Sherlock looked to Dr. Hooper who was fuming. “Have pity on the Detective Inspector, Samuel, he’s been in love with her for quite sometime and she finally gave him the opportunity to express his feelings. I have a feeling we’ll be having dinner next week. Perhaps Friday? The Royale, say around 8 o‘clock? Excellent. Come Watson, we've got our man, now we must find him and put an end to this murder.” Watson nodded politely to Molly, shaking Dr. Hooper’s hand before heading out behind Holmes, always hating the fact that the towering Sherlock always got a running start on him.

“Uhh… Great! I’ll be right out. You two give me a moment.” Greg called after their retreating forms, standing to follow gathering his things. Molly stood at his elbow smiling when he noticed she was next to him ready to hand him his bowler hat. He hoped one day that she would be doing so as his wife and not as a woman he was trying to court. “You never answered me. May I come to call on you?” They both looked to Dr. Hooper and at his consenting nod she said the word he was waiting to hear.

“Yes,” She giggled before his mouth came down on hers. He rushed out with a promise of calling on her later and she ran after him stopping at the door to see him running down the street behind Holmes and Watson, off to save the day. “Be safe!” She called, his answering wave made her smile.

 

\---

 

When she returned to the parlor, Molly’s father was sitting smoking a pipe angrily, which he only did when she was in trouble or when he couldn't find the answer while solving a problem, both situations causing him equal amounts of consternation. He hadn't had a need to smoke a pipe because of her since she was a little girl and he had been a father with no mother to help him discipline her. Molly had enough decency to look stricken with guilt. She did feel guilty, but not for kissing Greg, no she could never feel guilty about that, merely that she hadn't taken her dear father into her confidence and the two of them shared everything. Not this time, she had kept this great, wonderful feeling to herself deep inside, hoping that Lestrade would either repel her feelings so that she could move on and accept a life alone, or return her feelings and marry her as she hoped was his intention now that she knew he returned her attraction.

She smoothed down the front of her dress and sat, perched daintily on the edge of the chair across from her father‘s waiting for the scolding she was about to receive. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to be the picture of calm even though inside she feared for what he had to say. He might have only given his consent in front of the Detective Inspector to be polite and would rescind it now. The puffs of smoke continued for quite some time before they finally slowed and he took his pipe out to speak.

“So you and the Detective Inspector then, eh?” At her nod he continued. “I know I gave my consent, but it would hardly signify. The damage done to your reputation would have been enough. You were caught by Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson. Both men I trust with their discretion, Mr. Holmes simply because he doesn't give a fig unless his aim is to tease the Detective Inspector, and Dr. Watson because he’s a doctor and would never harm anyone even with idle gossip. However, say you were caught by the cook, or the wash girl, there’s no way to prevent their tongues from wagging even if you paid them not to do so. I do know Lestrade comes from a wealthy family, but is the third son, and he’s divorced.”

“Father…” She tried to interrupt to explain herself but it was useless. Once he was ready to lecture he would pontificate until his words ran dry.

“Quiet! He’s divorced. He’s damaged goods, that doesn't matter with a man so much as with a woman, but he‘s divorced none the less and it is frowned upon. Word around the club is that the poor man had a terrible whore for a wife. She was the toast of the town, and not for reasons I can mention to you. He was glad to be rid of her I can tell you that. And he only keeps up his club membership for the sake of appearances but never goes. Sure he’s a decent enough of a fellow but you don’t know how deep those scars go. He’d forever be ill-trusting of you and paranoid, even though knowing you he’d have no cause to be. But you could say goodbye to your privacy. Not to mention, he’s a detective inspector for Scotland Yard. He’s married to his work, men in that type of profession always are, much the same way I was, and still am. I lost your mother, you remember when you were little my girl, because I couldn't see that she was ill, I was too busy worrying over cadavers, poor sods that were too late to save. I lost her all in the name of science, and I deserved it. Do you want that life as a wife of a career man? Forever stuck in London, never to travel anywhere. Do you want to spend your married life sitting around praying that your poor Yarder comes home safe and sound every night? What if you have children? You’ll be raising them yourself and keeping the house, I can guarantee it. Would all this that comes with marrying this man make you happy? Well?” Molly bit her tongue, waiting for her father to finish his pontificating.

“Are you finished bashing him Papa?” Molly questioned so that she knew if she had to hold on to her patience for very much longer, as it was stretched very thin. Somewhere inside she knew he just didn't like the fact that his little girl was admiring another man that wasn't her father.

“Yes, my girl, please explain yourself. Quite frankly I‘d love to hear what you have to say for yourself, especially after that little parlor display we all witnessed.” Dr. Hooper demanded as he handed her a new cup of tea, and poured one for himself. She took a minute to sip the tea, to prepare herself for all she needed to say.

“I know all these things you say about him are true. But for all those reasons you speak of, they’re only more reasons for me to love him.” She could have laughed when he nearly dropped his tea cup on the floor in surprise, spilling some over the rim, if she hadn't felt to absolutely serious at that moment.

“Love him? Darling…” She held up a hand to silence him.

“No let me finish, Father.” Molly tried to plead for him to understand with her eyes.

“Alright.” He conceded reclining back into the chair, once again puffing away at his pipe, but calmly this time.

“I know that to you I am young, but I am ten and twenty years old. Women who are of a certain age, especially women of thirty, can only expect to be a spinster, to die as old maids. I know that it is partially my fault since I am always bent towards introversion, preferring a good book to good company, but I also can‘t be expected to go to balls, and spend nights dancing and flirting with eligible bachelors while the house and you are in need of such care. Now don‘t misunderstand me, I care not for socializing, you know that. Tis just a simple fact that I spent my good years here with you instead of doing things I should have been doing as a young lady, like finding a proper husband. Even though neither of us care for social conventions, it does nothing but hurt me in the end because I’m a woman. Not only that, but I've also been learning your craft and you've been training me, so that I’ll be able to take over your practice when you’re gone. I love being able to do this with you Papa, to be elbow deep in the cavity of a cadaver. That’s hardly the practice of well bred young ladies, in fact it is a secret between us, Gregory, Mr. Holmes, and now Dr. Watson as you well know.”

“What does that have to do with anything concerning your new beau?” Dr. Hooper raised his eyebrow, she knew that meant he was actually paying attention to what she said.

“I’m getting to my point, father if you‘ll let me arrive at it. Knowing all these flaws, I’m hardly eligible marriage material. I know you would disagree but your partiality towards your own daughter while admirable doesn't disguise the facts. Not only that but also I’m mousy, plain, and tend to stumble over my words when making even the simplest conversation, not to mention my awkward, macabre sense of humor that is hardly appropriate parlor talk. I’m hardly what one would consider a proper lady. But in Lestrade’s mind all of these reasons are exactly what make me eligible marriage material to him. And quite frankly, I love the way I see myself through his eyes. I don’t have to be something I’m not in front of him. He’s a simple man, and I don’t need to stand upon ceremony like one would have to in order to impress someone like Mr. Holmes, who is above and beyond common man in all things. While Mr. Holmes presents a nice fairy tale, and I’ll always admire him for being so, Detective Inspector Lestrade is my reality. I also find Gregory to be a very attractive gentlemen, with exceedingly good manners, warmth of character and was quite fond of him before knowing about his divorce. Sherlock announced it in front of me, probably because Lestrade took his old wedding ring off the day after his divorce when he was going to be in front of me, at least that was Sherlock’s deduction. Now that I know of it, I find myself falling even more deeply for him.”

“But what about his work? I can’t imagine you being completely forgiving of his obsession towards his police work.” Samuel Hooper questioned, pointing his pipe in his daughter’s direction.

“I know this to be his one flaw, but if anyone can consider being passionate about their work as a character flaw then father you’re just as guilty, even more so than the Detective Inspector, but none more so than Sherlock Holmes. If Greg is up all hours of the night on a case then it is only at the behest of Mr. Holmes, or because he deems it a matter of public safety for him to catch those responsible and to not stop until he has done so. I wouldn't sleep at night knowing that I kept him from doing his duty to protect the people of this city, nor would I sleep until he’d be safe at home. If I can provide that poor, world weary man with a warm hearth and home, and well-behaved children to kiss him good night one day in the future, as thanks for all that he does every day then that is what I plan to do, if at the end of this courtship we find ourselves in love and ready to be married. I can only hope… we’ll have to see. If you’re wondering about what will happen here to the work we do, I plan on doing that as well. It might not always work out, but I probably will only need to assist Mr. Holmes on his cases, and that would be enough for me, you know that.” She finished her speech with a lift of her chin, defiant and completely assured of herself in all things concerning Lestrade. Her father could at least be impressed with that.

“Alright, alright, little dove, I get the picture. So this man is the one for you, eh?” Her Papa’s use of his favorite pet name for her was enough to convince her of his final acceptance of this situation he was presented with, if the twinkle in his eye didn't.

“Yes, father, I believe he is, although I wonder what he’ll think of Aunt Evelyn.” Molly smiled as her father did at the mention of his sister.

“That woman will probably send him packing.” He chuckled, secretly hoping that she just might do so. No single man ever lasted when confronted by the indomitable Evelyn Hopper.

“Father…” Molly warned, her brow creasing in concern.

“A joke dear, now I shall return to my labs. Send the cook when its time for supper.” He announced kissing her brow so that it relaxed.

“Yes father just like always.” Molly went about the rest of her chores, humming to herself trying not to think of silver hair and the musky manly scents that lingered in the air and on her clothes.

“And after dinner, I’ll show you something fascinating about that cadaver Mr. Holmes brought with him today.” Her father called from the stairs as he descended to his labs, making Molly giggle, nothing ever changes and she liked that about her home, because her life felt on the verge of changing dramatically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are the bread and butter of the authors here, please be generous, don't be shy. It is much appreciated.


	3. A Fox Fights, Mousy Comforts & Morning Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade displays heroics, Molly fusses, and Lestrade does what any man would do, he lets her. He spends the night... on the settee, but what happens in the morning when a certain mouse tries to sneak around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know I had said I was going to give you all a big chunk of reading material and I had every intention of doing so, but commitments and life got in the way as it they usually do. I do have a lot written for it however. So don't worry. I also noticed some story time line issues that I have fixed - including things I wanted in the story that I had forgotten about - and I determined the exact length of the story! There's no getting away from this project now!
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 3**

**A Fox Fights, Mousy Comforts & Morning Lights**

 

\---

 

_Dockside Along the Thames, Sunset_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

Detective Inspector Lestrade found himself behind a flour crate, dodging bullets being fired in his general direction. He winced every now and then, as wood splintered from the crates and almost nicked his eyes while scratching his face. What was supposed to be a simple arrest ended up in a run to the docks along the South Bank where the murderer in question met up with his gang. Fortunately for Holmes, Watson and himself they all had guns as well. They currently were fighting their way over towards the men to forcibly make arrests, but every time they made an attempt they were shot back down. He couldn't help but think of this as the perfect irony, as soon as he makes a move with Molly Hooper, the world conspires to make an attempt at killing him. At least Holmes seemed to be enjoying himself, he just fired a shot at lord knows where, given a pistol by Watson. Shooting was never his strong suit. Though, he did just manage to knock one of the shooters down from his perch by knocking down the structure they were sitting on.

“I say, Lestrade, what spurred you to finally make the decision to make an advancement upon Molly Hooper? I’d thought you’d never do it.” Sherlock ducked before being fired upon several times. Watson, almost taking it as a personal affront managed to wound two men before having to seek protection.

“Now Sherlock? You want to discuss this now?! Is now really the best time?” Lestrade shouting above the din of bullet fire.

“Why not now? You’re still thinking about her, instead of concentrating on shooting the men shooting at us, you’re more worried about getting back to her alive.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at this.

“I don’t know, I finally decided I've waited long enough. She was receptive to it, so I kissed her. Why do you ask? Jealous?” With this boost of manly confidence, Lestrade was able to take out three men, but there still at least eight more unfortunately and both he and Watson were running short of ammunition.

“After this, Lestrade you and I are going to go out for a drink. What say you? How about at the club?” Watson offered trying to divert attention away from Lestrade’s baiting of Sherlock, who merely scoffed at the idea of being jealous at Lestrade getting attention from Molly Hooper.

“How about just a local pub? Lately I prefer them to the stuffiness of those posh places.” Lestrade suggested, the uncomfortable atmosphere got even more uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong with the club man? Why go to a pub with the clubs offer better drinks and company?” Watson always thought him respectable, he couldn't imagine someone of Lestrade’s background favoring pubs to the gentlemen’s clubs.

“As ever John you’re not observing, Lestrade can’t abide by the clubs since he was a source of gossip for all of his so called friends, and the wife slept with at least half of the club he frequented, who knows how many at the rest.” Sherlock smirked before taking a shot, and missing… terribly.

“Oi! I’d like it if you’d not talk about her.” Lestrade groused before shooting twice but only hitting one man. He was so close to being out, only armed with his revolver.

“Why do you care what we think of her? She’s your ex-wife, and as far as Watson and I are concerned we think that she deserves all the gossip she gets being the toast of the town for all the wrong reasons. Don’t worry, that won’t last forever, sleep with enough husbands and the wives will revolt eventually. It’s guaranteed to be very ugly, and all the better to serve up the proper revenge. You don’t even have to lift a finger.” Sherlock quipped much to the surprise of both Lestrade and Watson, it wasn't his usual forte to pick up for people he knew like that, but Watson was that sort of man. Perhaps Watson was rubbing off on Sherlock in the right way.

“So pub it is then!” Watson cut in as he fired two more shots, hitting two more men but cursed when he found himself out of bullets. Lestrade managed to take another man out as well, but found himself to then be out of ammunition as well. He growled in frustration, throwing his gun to the ground, hating that there was no way to carry better weapons on him when tracking down criminals like this, he hated always having to duck behind barrels, crates and walls. For some reason the gunfire was slowly dissipating.

“Where did Sherlock go?” Lestrade questioned not seeing the lanky detective near Watson. 

“Oh no! I told him not to run off! SHERLOCK!!!” Watson yelled ineffectually into the dissipating din. There were two more gun shots then silence, both men shared a look, fearing the worst. Watson peered over the box he had been using for cover and spotted Sherlock standing tall in the middle of the remains of their fire fight. Sherlock had knocked the remaining men all unconscious, or shot them to incapacitate them, save but one, the murderer. At Watson’s all clear both Watson and Lestrade stood, dusting themselves off.

“Over here, Watson, Lestrade, this is our man. I shot him in the knee. He’ll not be going anywhere.” Holmes called back to them. “You may want to secure the other men with this rope Lestrade and then whistle for back up. I only knocked the ones on the head that we didn't manage to shoot. They’ll be rousing in short order.” Lestrade took the rope from Holmes and set about his task, passing his cuffs to Holmes to secure their man before using his whistle, using the Yard’s whistle to order carriages and back up to be brought.

“Sherlock Holmes, I told you not to go about on your own, especially when there’s gun fire.” Watson groused to Sherlock, ever the doctor, completely concerned about Sherlock’s safety and more than a little angry at his foolishness. He had seen more than one good man killed in action because of reckless, overzealous behavior. Sherlock was no different.

“He’s right Holmes, you should listen to him. You always seem to like going about all half-cocked and unarmed.” Lestrade joined in, not liking the detectives lack of personal preservation.

“Well the both of you had their attention diverted, but were lacking in the number of bullets needed to finish the job so I decided to intervene. And while it is true that I care not for my personal safety, I am never not unarmed.” Sherlock Holmes shrugged as if it had all made sense.

“Damn you!” The murder suspect would soon regret calling attention to himself.

“Ah! Our murder suspect. I want you to confess to your crime for the Detective Inspector. All you have to do is answer this question, its quite an easy one really. Why did you kill that girl?” Sherlock growled leaning down from his impressive height to lean over the man who had the decency to look afraid of him.

“I won’ be confessin' to nowt! You hearing me? You have no proof, you‘re all bluffin'.” The low-life started screaming in pain when Sherlock dug a knuckle into the still smoking bullet hole in his knee.

“The Detective Inspector is a more patient man than I am, he’d wait forever to listen to you confess. I know it was you. I want to hear you say it. Why did you kill her?!” Both Lestrade and Watson were about to pull Sherlock away, having pity for the man at the mercy of Sherlock’s single mindedness, when the culprit started talking.

“I was hungry!!! I wanted money for a bit of food, anyfing. Just a shilling, that’s all I asked for. She wouldn't cough it up, cheap tart. Alright so maybe I were gonna steal her purse, she was a posh bird, and had plenty more where’n that came from. I begged and she looked down on me as if I was a piece o’ trash. So I put me hands about her throat and the next thing I know she weren't breathin'. Oh God!” The poor sod started to sob at the end of his confession. “I didn't know wot I was doin’. Please believe me! I didn't want to kill her, me mates said they’d keep me from getting put in the clink, now look.” He said looking around crying. Two were dead and the rest were unconscious or bleeding from bullet wounds.

“I hope you and your mates thought a shilling or two worth all this trouble.” Sherlock said to the man angrily before walking away. This genre of murders always disgusted him the most. They were always committed for the silliest of reasons, and usually the most obvious to solve, the biggest wastes of time.

“All over a shilling.” Watson sighed, he jogged over to join his friend who was already on his way back to 221B, the case now solved. They both needed creature comforts to wash themselves of the needlessness of this crime. Lestrade understood, and he knew he needed Molly. Once he was finished cleaning up the chaos in front of him, and took Watson out for the pint that he promised, that would be his next stop.

 

\---

 

Molly was found pacing the parlor room after her father and she had supped. Lestrade said he would stop by after the case was finished, but he had yet to appear. Molly heard all of the Yarders whistles, running in some nearby direction. She knew somehow it had something to do with Lestrade but that had been hours ago, and Molly tried not to worry. She really tried. That didn't stop her from pacing and wringing her hands between soothing sips of tea. Her father was in his usual spot after dinner, in his chair with a pipe and a book. He paused from his reading, and contemplative puffing to watch her pacing, it was now getting in the way of his enjoyment of the book in front of him.

“Sit down, my dove and relax! If the man said he would stop by, he will! If not tonight, he will tomorrow!” Her father had to withhold his teasing when she sat down and fidgeted with her tea cup, the book on the coffee table which she set up and put down for the twentieth time, smoothing out her skirt and hair again. He really hoped that the man would stop this slow torture upon his usually peaceful household and visit. It wasn't right, a man’s home being disturbed by bachelor callers at all hours. She was about to start pacing again, to which her father made a face, until the doorbell sounded through the house. Her father was about to get up to get it but before he could blink, she was at the door bringing Lestrade into the house. He chuckled, thinking how little chance that poor man had when his little dove was keen.

Lestrade greeted Molly with a tired smile and noticed how Molly’s face went from a lovely smile to a worried concerned frown, it was however gone as quickly as it appeared. He wondered why until he noticed his face in the hall mirror. He hadn't had a chance to look at himself, between the clean up at the scene and the pint he shared with Watson, he was exhausted and looked it. Lestrade also noticed there were cuts caused by the splintered crate wood that he had ignored, simply because he was never one to make a fuss over his appearance or his person. Molly took his hat, coat, gloves and other outer things hanging them up in the hallway closet before dragging him by the hand up to the parlor. All of this done without a word, but a giggle here and there as she did this all without him assisting. Her free and easy affection with him was comforting. All he had to go home to was a cold, lonely apartment.

Greg took his usual seat in the parlor on the settee with a sigh of relief.

“Lestrade you look so exhausted. Doesn't he, Papa?” Molly questioned as she sat at his feet. Her father rolled his eyes at Lestrade with a smile, now aware that he was completely ignored by the couple after this exchange. The feeling was impressed upon him that when they were together the rest of the world fell away. He confirmed that Lestrade did indeed look tired , echoing her sentiments and went back to his book, shaking his head fondly. He was more than happy to play chaperone if he was allowed to read his book.

“I am fine Miss. Hooper, believe me.” Lestrade smiled taking her hand in his and while his other memorized her features. “This is nothing I am not used to, I have seen far worse.” What was meant to be a jest turned Molly’s face contorted into a worried expression that just wouldn't do. She looked away, feigning to smooth out her dress. With a gentle nudge of his finger, Molly turned to face him meeting his eyes. “I’m alright Molly, really!” He smiled wide like he knew she liked and that was the indication she needed, his smile was returned and she squeezed his hand that was holding hers.

“What happened? You look as if you had the worst of it, and you look like you’re hungry.” Molly looked from the cuts on his face to his dusty clothes and where holes in his clothes were made by kneeling on the ground.

“I am a bit.” Lestrade admitted shyly, his ears pinking at the tips. He didn't want to make it sound like he was trespassing on Dr. Hopper’s kindness by begging for a hot meal. Molly was far too good for him, he saw a glint in her eye, knowing she was now keen on feeding him. “I was caught behind some crates with Holmes and Dr. Watson. We were fired upon, the perpetrator led a chase to the South Bank of the Thames where he met up with his gang that were fully armed and ready for a fight at the docks.” Lestrade chuckled at the ridiculousness of something that was supposed to be so simple. “I do wish they wouldn't do that, it would be so easy if they just gave up.”

“Yes but then that would pale the extent of your heroics.” Molly giggled her eyes sparkling in her tease. He wish that he could feel as good as he appeared in the reflection of her shining, brown eyes.

“Yes it would, but then I wouldn't be so tired after. Then just when Watson and I ran out of ammunition, Holmes took it upon himself to sneak about and incapacitate the men we hadn't already...” He let the sentence hang in the air unfinished, knowing not to mention that Watson and himself had managed to kill two of the men in the fire fight. They were gruesome and he felt guilty as a man of the law for letting it get to that point. The Chief Inspector applauded him for at least not allowing any civilians to get hurt. He would have been satisfied if no one had to have been hurt at all. “But you’re right I am hungry, I haven‘t eaten since breakfast.” He smiled finally able to breathe easy.

“Alright! I’ll go downstairs and fix you something. Would you enjoy a tea with your meal?” Molly questioned rising to get up to go down to the kitchen. At his nod, she hummed as she made her way down to the kitchen, her father noticed his fond smile as he listened to her humming retreat.

“So, were you forced to kill anyone?” Dr. Hooper questioned rising from his chair to go to the sideboard of the parlor where he filled two snifters each with a generous amount of brandy. His daughter’s beau looked as if he could use it. Lestrade took his very gratefully, allowing the brandy time to breathe and warm in his hands.

“Unfortunately, yes, Holmes suggested sending them your way, they had no family and were really just some riff raff. It all seems so cold but if they can be of some use to medicine and science, it proves them more useful than they were in life. You’ll be getting them tomorrow. It’s still a shame to have to kill them though.” Lestrade sighed regretfully supporting himself with his elbows on his knees and rubbing the back of his neck. He stared into the fire, unseeing, his gaze seemingly far away. Samuel knew he was seeing the dead men when he had killed them.

“Don’t feel guilty about doing your duty to this great city, sir. Dreadful business though that duty may be sometimes. If you hadn't been forced to shoot them you wouldn't be here now to shower my daughter with affection.” They both had a hearty chuckle at that. “You should be proud to protect our London.” Dr. Hooper raised his snifter to Lestrade before taking a generous mouthful.

“I’ll drink to that, Dr. Hooper.” Lestrade smiled, at ease once again. Dealing with death was never easy, especially if he was forced to do it in defense but Dr. Hooper was like Sherlock, it wasn't easy but definitely necessary. One can never hesitate when the choice is between life and death. Dr. Hooper returned to his book.

It was at that moment that Molly returned to the room, a full tray in hand. She didn't just have his food, which was a full plate of what looked like delicious, hot food but also tea, dessert, and some supplies to patch the cuts that marred his face. She noted Greg’s face, he was never one for being fussed over. “I know you’ll probably put up a fuss but please let me clean you up a bit while you eat, Gregory.” She made a face with her eyes big and pleading that had him weak kneed and weak willed. He would just have easily left it alone until he woke up the next day. Lestrade simply nodded, and Molly went about putting a table with the tray in front of him, poured his tea and set out her nursing tools on the coffee table. Her father guffawed at this, knowing Molly’s old trick of making a pleading face to get her way. He had fallen for it quite a lot before he had gotten wise and built up a resistance to it. He shook his head as he accepted a cup of tea from his daughter.

“You had best be careful, Lestrade and ward yourself from that face of hers, or else she’ll have everything she wants from you and more. Thank goodness I've grown immune to it. That’s the oldest trick in her bag.” Lestrade smiled a cheeky smile.

“Oh really? I’ll make note of that in the future.” He teased as she began to dab at cuts on his neck he hadn't noticed which silenced him with a hiss. “Ouch.” Lestrade complained as she grabbed his head to keep him still, moving onto the cuts at his temple.

“Don’t spoil my plans father. Giving him hints as to how to not have to spoil me.” Molly complained as she went to work cleaning Lestrade’s cuts. “Be still, Gregory, or I can’t clean your cuts.” She continued to dab away, keen on finishing her tasks much to Lestrade’s consternation. She blew on his head where she had just dabbed when he continued to hiss at the burn caused by the antiseptic. When she blew on his temple, the air between them suddenly was charged with something else. “There that must be better.” Molly whispered looking into his eyes when he turned towards her. “It looks better already.” She smiled.

“Yes it… uh… feels better too.” Lestrade who was almost at a loss for words, wasn't really sure what he was saying either. They were about to kiss before her father politely cleared his throat to break the tension building in the air. “Yes, uhm, Miss. Hooper this looks marvelous. You didn't have to go through so much trouble.” Lestrade smiled, digging into his meal.

“It’s no trouble for you Gregory. I’m just glad to be able to give you a hot meal. It is a comfort to know that you have eaten well. I see Papa has plied you with brandy.” She smiled a knowing smile at her father, who hid his nose deeper inside the book he was trying to read, she knew Dr. Samuel Hooper doesn't share his brandy with just anyone.

“Yes, and very good brandy it is to, thank you Dr. Hooper.” Lestrade gave a lopsided smile that increased Molly’s own.

“I believe you may call me Samuel now, Greg. I did after all share my brandy with you.” Dr. Hooper smiled behind his book with a twinkle in his eye, noting how much Molly’s happiness depended upon him liking the other man.

“Thank you, Samuel for everything. I could not spend the evening in better company. All that awaits for me are cold apartments overlooking the Thames.” Greg sighed, having finished his meal leaning back against the settee. He suddenly found himself very satisfied and very tired. His mood which was glad at spending the evening in such comfort was suddenly now bent on the morose, his mind still thinking of the case. The poor dead chaps he was forced to kill, and the poor girl who it turns out didn't even have a letter with an address of a friend, no one, so it was up to him to bury the poor soul. That thought was a sobering one, and he couldn't put it aside.

Molly seeing the change in his mood looked to him questioningly, taking his hand in both of hers to gain his attention, when he looked upon her she questioned the state of his mood. “What is the matter?” She asked in an unsure tone, wondering if he would tell her what had been bothering him.

“Well it will be up to me it turns out to bury the poor girl that Samuel was forced to autopsy.” Lestrade looked to her, a serious frown on his lips which was only broken when he looked away from her and then back again licking his lips.

“All alone?” Molly questioned seeing what had turned his thoughts so grey.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, there’s no one else. The girl didn't have a single letter amongst her possessions.” Lestrade looked down at their joined hands, brows furrowing.

“How sad, would you like me to go with you?” Molly looked up beneath her eyelashes at him, unsure if she had overstepped a line she wasn't sure she was crossing.

“I couldn't ask you to do such a thing Miss. Hooper.” Lestrade smiling fondly at her.

“You’re not asking, Greg. I’m offering. I would like to be by your side. Especially since it seems to trouble you so.” Molly looked determined.

“If it would please you.” Greg smiled giving in easily.

“Yes, it would. What time is it?”

“Seven in the morning at St. James the Less. Just before services, the pastor there often does this for me on occasions that these poor souls turn up.”

“Then seven it shall be. Then you and I can go to the services after and have lunch to shake off the gloom. That’s the church my Aunt Evelyn and I frequent.” Molly smiled knowing that Aunt Evelyn would adore the opportunity to meet him. “She can chaperone us so that we won’t be offending anyone.” Looking to her father that nodded paying attention to what was being said even though he was still reading.

“Well it looks like my whole day is planned out for me on Sunday.” He smiled, the clock dinging in the background. He looked up at the clock as it struck eleven, he had not known that he had trespassed up on their home at so late an hour. “It is nearing midnight, I should not trespass on your hospitality further.” He made a move to get up but he was pulled forcibly back down by Molly by a strength he didn't know she possessed. He landed back on the settee with a bit of an ‘oof.’

“Nonsense. I won’t have you going back to lonely apartments at this hour. Will we Papa?” Molly turned her eyes upon her father, and Lestrade almost laughed as he watched the same eyes Samuel warned him about work upon him the same way. It seemed that her father lied when he said her eyes didn't work on him anymore because he found himself agreeing that Lestrade should stay the night shortly after.

“Please our home is your home, although I don’t know how comfortable you will find the settee, for we have no guestrooms.” He laughed before rising. “I shall leave you to get him settled then Molly, then its off to bed with you little dove. I will be listening for you.” Her father kissed her head, gave a look to Lestrade to make sure he acted as a gentlemen when they were alone and then strolled off to his room.

“There. Now lets get you comfortable.” Molly smiled helping him to take off his coat. His groaned as his body refused to cooperate, the poor man was sore from crouching for hours. “You’ll be dead asleep in no time.” She looked up biting her lip, realizing her poor choice of words in a house that also doubled as a morgue below. Lestrade simply smiled and started laughing causing her to laugh too.

“I do love you, Molly Hooper.” He sighed undoing his bow-tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Molly seemed to like what she saw when she caught a glimpse of what lay beyond his shirt, she blushed and looked away as if she were trying to hold herself back. She cleared her throat, getting up to retrieved a pillow while Lestrade made himself comfortable, removing his shoes and socks before leaning back. She put the pillow behind his head and he groaned as she moved her fingers through his silver hair, massaging his scalp before leaning down to surprise him with a searing kiss.

“And I love you, Gregory Lestrade.” She made a move to retreat to her own room but he pulled her down by the hand to sit beside him before she could walk away, neither could let go of the other. They kissed again, he hummed into it when she continued her loving touches of his hair. When they parted, she made to get up but he stopped her again with a hand on her shoulder.

“Stay. Just until I fall asleep, I promise it won’t be long. I’m very tired, so there‘s very little chance of my taking advantage of you.” He licked his lips and gave a crooked, boyish grin. He was still a cheeky bastard even though his eyes were heavy with sleep pulling at the corners.

His smiled deepened when she giggled. “Alright. But just for a little while.” She smiled laying her head on the settee next to his. They kissed softly and she continued to rub his head and hummed until just like magic he was sound asleep. The soft snore coming from his lips filled her heart with affection that was continuing to bloom and grow all the time. Lestrade sleeping comfortably in the parlor room was a fond picture that would assist Molly in sleeping when she returned to her own room.

 

\---

 

Molly woke with the graying morning, just peeking over the buildings around her home. She knew that Lestrade had not stirred, she had not heard movement but neither was she woken by the closing of the front door. She woke up to see if he was still asleep and then she would go down to begin making a small breakfast for him to eat before he left. This was the plan she formed as she made her way down to the kitchens. She knew she had no time to dress, so she settled for a wrap and her nightgown. She tiptoed passed her father’s door and descended the stairs to the living room, where the night’s fire was slowly dying, casting long shadows in the living room as she tiptoed past the settee. Lestrade’s form she could see was still reclined Molly hoped still in sleep, she stepped on a creaky floorboard by mistake and winced when she heard Lestrade snore himself awake. Molly watched fascinated as he sat up and started massaging his neck stiff with sleep, she was glad to still be unobserved. She tried to tiptoe further only to stumble upon a creaky floorboard again, clumsy as ever poor Molly.

At that noise Molly could no longer remain the quiet little mouse she had intended to be, Lestrade turned and spoke her name with a soft gruffness from sleep that sent shivers down her spine. She turned making sure to grip her wrap to her more firmly. “Sorry, for waking you.” Molly whispered and looked down at her bare feet suddenly bashful at being found in nothing but her sleepwear. She pulled the nightgown down to try to hide her feet from him, never liking her feet to be seen, even though she hated wearing slippers.

“Oh no, its fine. I should uh, be going. I have to go wash and change before going to the Yard.” Lestrade smiled like the cat that caught the canary, happy to catch her in such an informal state of undress, seeing her delicate form revealed by the morning light coming from the stairs that led to the front door.

“I know!” Molly said surprising him by not whispering, she quickly corrected herself returning to a whispered sotto voce. “I was going to make you a quick breakfast before you left. It is not even half past five. I would not see you leave without knowing you at least had a morning tea before you left.” Molly finally looked up pleading for him to at least stay until he had something warm to drink, but not meeting his eyes, still blushing. It may have been nearing springtime but London still was leaving frost on the windows.

“Alright,” Lestrade smiled relaxing. “I’ll see if I can sleep a little more while I wait.” Molly finally met his eyes and smiled before running down to the kitchens to set about making his breakfast. She was back a half hour later pouring his tea and setting toast and jam in front of him.

“I shall go and dress quickly while you enjoy that. Don’t worry I’ll be quick.” She rushed off and he counted, she was back in five minutes, maybe less. She was in a simple morning dress and her hair was simply bound but she looked just as beautiful to Lestrade as she always did. She returned to stand before him as he was sipping his tea. He was starting in on his toast.

“Will you join me?” Lestrade asked, he’d at least like to enjoy her company for a little while longer.

“No. But only because I shall be having breakfast with father later. We wouldn't want him to be suspicious over something as simple as whether or not I take breakfast with him.” She came around the table and sat before him, and he raised his eyebrows as she calmly set about buttoning the buttons on his shirt and tying his bow tie. She smoothed out his shirt making the shirt appear as though he hadn't slept in it. She then helped him into his vest as he ate which she buttoned as well, and then took his toast plate from him to help him with his suit jacket which she retrieved from her chair where she had reverently laid it the night before.

“I can dress myself you know,” Lestrade giggled as she buttoned up his jacket when he stood.

“Of course you can, Gregory.” She tried not to sound patronizing, but she couldn't resist the temptation, this earned her a grumble and then a kiss from him making her giggle. “Consider it just the whim of a silly girl to dress the man that she loves who is courting her, to help him get ready for the day. I won’t have many opportunities to do so. So I must take advantage of it while I can… unless we marry.” She smiled sadly, tentatively, wishing she could do this for him everyday. But for the two of them to be married, while she believed was the inevitable conclusion of their courtship, seemed a distant muddled dream.

“Is that where you see this going, marriage, I mean?” Lestrade questioned as they walked to the door that led to the hallway.

“I hope so, I would like to, I mean, well, that is the inevitable conclusion to all of this isn't it? I do see us, you and I, together, as man and wife. Don’t you?” Molly rambled a bit, turned worrisome eyes from looking down at the floor to looking into his deep warm brown eyes. Lestrade’s eyes looked upon her with a great intensity that almost made her cry. A man had never looked upon her like that before.

“I love you Molly Hooper, and I would like to propose to you one day. I hope for that day to be soon.” Lestrade smiled before kissing her, a kiss which she returned. When they pulled apart, he moved down her jaw line to her neck nibbling and kissing his way to her pulse as she whimpered quietly to his satisfaction. Lestrade made sure to preserve the memory of her smell, a smell that was purely Molly in every sense and was not hindered by her perfume, which was divine in its own right. But no, this smell was how she would smell on Sunday mornings, curled up against him when he held her as they slept, something to burrow inside of and forget all of his troubles. He could almost picture it and would use it now as a balm while he worked until he could see her again. He smiled against her as he felt her swallow a few times through her skin before being able to speak.

“I love you too. Now come, you must go about your day and I must start mine as well.” Molly said with a knowing smile as she led him down the hall helping Lestrade with his coat and hat. With one last trade of affections and a kiss, Lestrade left for the day, feeling as light as air, his heart full with all the comfort of love that Molly had given him. Lestrade was a buoy in the middle of the English Channel, floating above the churning waters. He turned to wave back and found her waving to him and blew him a kiss. He made believe that he had caught it and put it in his pocket. Saving the kiss for later, and with that promise Molly giggled and would find these thoughts would much amuse her throughout her day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies in advance for the fumbling around setting up this fic to look alright, be gentle in your opinions of that fact as this is my first time using this platform to post. Everyone is a beginner at everything once. 
> 
> Kudos, kudos, kudos everywhere but not a comment to drink. Loving the attention, and thank you to those that have left kudos here, I've given them a warm place to sleep, cuddle up with them at night, and tell them of my plans for this story. They sigh and coo at all the right spots, much to my amusement. I look towards the day when those kudos turn into comments and leave the nest.
> 
> Again, don't be shy. These are the things that keep me going. Its all for your benefit than it is mine.


	4. A Somber Morning, then Enter Aunt Evelyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade and Molly put the late Miss. Greyston to rest, we meet the great Aunt Evelyn, who is out to protect Molly's heart and make Lestrade squirm in his seat at the cafe, after attending Sunday services. Afterwards, we find Lestrade and Molly strolling through Regents Park, confronted by feelings from the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my second attempt at posting this chapter, so I hope I say everything I had intended to say. There isn't much to warn you about in this chapter excepting the funeral. It's a difficult subject for anyone to discuss, let alone read, so I apologize but it is an important thing to talk about for our characters.
> 
> Something else I feel needs mentioning. I am not one to let my personal beliefs cloud my writing, unless I'm writing an opinion essay. I try to be as objective as possible, writing to whom the characters are, the setting and themes that are involved. Especially when I'm writing fanfiction, which is the goal I think of writing it. So that being said, by putting this story in the Victorian Era, it was seen as proper to attend services, and not just to appear pious but also for social reasons. However, unlike America (groans internally), in England and Europe it wasn't detrimental to your reputation or character to attend. So I feel that I need to mention that I hope that, with the mention of the characters attending church services, that this isn't viewed as a "Christian" story. Please don't, don't do that. Don't try making this story something that it is not. What it is, I hope you understand, is my attempt at writing a historically accurate story. I also hope that those who are not Christian reading this story do not take offense at the lack of mention of other religions, I apologize but in order to be historically accurate I have to write it like this. Thanks to all for understanding.
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

  **Chapter 4**

**A Somber Morning, then Enter Aunt Evelyn**

 

\---

 

_Sunday Morning, Dawn_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

  
For Molly, Sunday was a day to look forward to more so than any other Sunday. Sundays were her days to pray upon Lestrade, his safety, their love and future. But she would get to see the manifestation himself and hopefully he would pray for their love during the services just as she would. Molly was as giddy as a little girl at the thought, but she tried to keep a sober mien, knowing that she was on her way to an early funeral for that poor girl that was murdered. The butterflies that floated in her stomach couldn't be helped, knowing she would be standing next to Lestrade to support him. Her father was barely awake and standing in his robe waiting for her to appear. He gave her a kiss, told her to be careful and saw her off in the carriage he had ordered hoping that the day went well for her. It was so little he saw his little girl out and about. Samuel hoped that it brought signs of a change in his daughter for the better.

Molly arrived at the church just as the sun was started to stretch over the sky. She saw Lestrade waiting for her, and his face was serious as he came to the carriage to help her out. The air was thick and not with fog as she alighted from the carriage. It was heavy with the duty they needed to perform, but also charged with the electricity that always seemed to ignite the air between the two of them. Molly rested her hand in his, feeling his warmth radiate through her person and she planned to never let go. They stared into each others eyes as the carriage rolled away.

“Thank you for coming this morning. It means so much. I know this isn't an easy thing for a person to witness.” Lestrade looked down at the ground, awkward in the face of participating in the funeral with her by his side.

Molly cupped his face with her gloved hand, he closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth it provided to give him strength. She encouraged Lestrade to look at her so that he finally met her eyes, which while they contained the love she knew was between them, were tinged with sadness. “There is no where I’d rather be this morning than by your side.” Molly kissed him and just as he was going to kiss her back, a single bell tolled, announcing the somber ceremony that was about to take place.

“Well, shall we?” Lestrade sighed offering Molly his arm.

They stood before the gravestone, and the deep pit in the earth, waiting for the ceremony to start. Before them was a simple gravestone that read: Caroline Greyston, aged 23, died and the date that she unfortunately met her end. There was no singing, no hymns, the simple wooden coffin carried by the men that dug her grave.

Thinking they were the only ones to say goodbye they were surprised to hear the approach of the young Yarder that had been flirting with her, dressed in his formal uniform, a sprig of violets in his hand. Molly questioned who he was with her eyes but Lestrade shook his head sadly. Molly seemed to gather the picture just from that look and the young man’s face. Lestrade shook the man's hand but the poor chap seemed too overcome with emotion. Lestrade covered Molly’s hand that was on his arm with his other, she gave his arm a squeeze in acknowledgement.

The priest said a service that was clearly practiced and run of the mill, as the workers lowered the girl into her final resting place. It was all so practiced and common, nothing personal in it. There should have been something more but there was little anyone could do for her. Greg ground his teeth in frustration, thinking that there was more he could have done and should have done, Molly let go of his arm so that she could take his hand when it fell to his side, laying her head on his shoulder, trying to comfort him through his frustration. He heard a sniffle from her, knowing she shared his feelings. He interlaced their fingers and met her eyes, before looking towards the coffin that now laid in the earth, alone. They listened to the pastor speak of how one's life could be reduced to such anonymity, the terrible fate of the girl but how she was now at peace. The thoughts were sobering ones.

The priest concluded the ceremony and they, even the pastor, all took turns dropping dirt onto the coffin as was the usual practice, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, before walking away. Molly announced politely to Greg in front of the young officer, who was struggling it seemed to try to walk without the earth swallowing him up, that she was going to wait for her Aunt and would meet him at the front of the church. She watched the exchange between them from afar, the young lad was overwrought. Soon after the lad had become angry an easy answer in grief, seemed to say something he shouldn't have, and Lestrade first scolded the young man - who stood at attention when faced with Lestrade's authority- looked to Molly, meeting her eyes but then apologized and said farewell, leaving the lad to his grief.

Molly looked over to the arriving carriages just in time to see her Aunt Evelyn getting out of hers. Trying to fight off the blush that rose to her cheeks at being caught observing their conversation by Greg. She ran up to the carriage, trying to shake the gloom of the funeral. She took her aunt’s hand pulling her away from the flock of Sunday worshipers.

“Aunt Evelyn! Good morning!” Her aunt kissed her cheeks and linked her arm with hers. “It feels like it’s been forever but it’s only been since last Sunday!” Her aunt was by far a favorite of Molly’s, she always dressed in the biggest costumes but they never seemed to overwhelm her, or appear outrageous. Her personality was big enough to match and she doted on her niece whenever possible, though Molly was too shy to take advantage of it.

“My dear! Good morning, my Molly Mouse. How are you?” Her Aunt doted on her person, fixing make believe ruffles as she took in her appearance. “There is word around the gossip train that my Molly is involved with a man! Is this true?” Just then a voice was cleared behind her niece, and her eyes lit up in a way Evelyn Hooper would have bet money would have never been possible.

“Aunt, I am absolutely wonderful because you are right there is a man in my life now, Aunt may I introduce to you Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard Gregory Lestrade. Gregory this is my infamous and notorious aunt, Evelyn Hooper. Be careful, she’ll make mince meat out of you since she knows that you’re courting me.” Molly and Greg laughed and Greg took her Aunt’s hand, bowing over it, a proper gentleman.

“Greg Lestrade, it is an absolute pleasure to meet Molly’s Aunt Evelyn.” Aunt Evelyn simpered and laughed at Lestrade’s manner. Greg looked to her in a friendly way, knowing she was going to be a favorite of his, Molly and him exchanged a glance.

“Don’t you worry about impressions with me young man. I’m up on all of the gossip concerning the man that has intentions towards my niece, as soon as I heard the whispers.” Aunt Evelyn winked at Lestrade.

“I hope you didn't hear anything too terrible about me.” Greg giving Molly a slightly pained smile. He didn't like knowing he was still gossiped about, and that now Molly was being talked of as well.

“Don’t worry, boy. Its typical gossip, everything and nothing, truth and rumors all mixed together until it is unrecognizable. All the typical chatter one hears about a divorced gentleman and nothing against you sir outright. So you’re a favorite for being interesting, especially since you’re such a handsome beau for my dear Molly. Isn't my niece an astonishing thing? Never flirted with a man in her life, and the first man she scoops up is as handsome as the devil.” At this they all had a chuckle, Molly looking down, as if to disappear, she was far too shy sometimes for her Aunt’s jolly rambles, typical Hooper rambles only she wasn't shy about them. Lestrade found that to be quite endearing to him about this strange relative of Molly’s. They heard the bells chime.

“Well, shall we make our way inside? Then afterwards, Aunt, I hope we can all go out to lunch.” Her aunt agreed with enthusiasm as they walked in together Lestrade following behind, and they made their way into church for the service, stopping to talk to fellow members every now and then. Once everyone was seated the service commenced in a usual fashion, and for the first time Molly heard Lestrade sing. It wasn't that he sung particularly well, but he followed along and the timbre of his voice had her enraptured that she almost lost her place during the hymns several times. Every time she did, Lestrade would run his fingers along her hand that was next to his, unable to hold it in public just yet. When they sat down, Lestrade would run his thumb rhythmically up and down her forearm, Molly tried to do everything within her power not to blush with the pastor caught her eye. Usually Molly was so focused on praying for Lestrade’s safety but this time they spent most of the service exchanging looks and glances. Molly had to stifle giggles throughout the sermon as Lestrade wasn't unable to stop fidgeting. Clearly he wasn't a usual at church, he didn't do it very well and stumbled through the Lord’s Prayer as if he was trying to remember a poem he hadn't recited since he had memorized it.

The service ended and the pastor eyed the two lovers with a knowing smile, to which both had the decency to blush to which Aunt Evelyn and the pastor left at when the couple walked away. The trio walked over to a local café that Molly and Aunt Evelyn frequently stopped at after the service, always wanting to spend time whenever possible. They all laughed together throughout the meal, Lestrade and Aunt Evelyn getting to know each other over their tea and sandwiches. When Molly excused herself to go to the restroom, the obliging and friendly Aunt Evelyn, that had been there since Lestrade first met her, changed into something else entirely. Lestrade had the decency to gulp, now understanding the warning that Molly and Samuel had given him.

“Now sir, now that my niece is no longer within hearing distance, I get to say my mind on this matter of my niece, you and your courtship.” Evelyn announced pouring him and herself more tea as if she were still only speaking of the weather.

“You want to know my intentions, where all of this will eventually lead.” Lestrade suggested, not one to belabor an issue. He was a police officer, the man knew how to read between the lines and didn't intimidate easily. At least not when dealing with criminals, this Aunt Evelyn was something else entirely.

“Not just that but what intentions can a man such as yourself, who is divorced, and retreated from society have in forming a flirtatious relationship with a girl ten years his junior. I wasn't born yesterday boy, no matter what you might think of me. I know of those kind of men. Men who are divorced and free to set about playing games with innocent young girls and their naïve open affections to feel young again. I may be a spinster but don’t let that fool you. I‘m more than wise in the ways of the world.” Aunt Evelyn squinted her eyes at him, making Lestrade shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“Well, if I can be honest. I fully intend to marry her. You obviously know the family I come from. I can tell you, you need never worry about Molly, she’ll be well provided for, I’ll see to that. While I know that there are men that are like that, even men that I would have considered friends not too long ago, I don‘t think I need to defend myself or my character, I care for your niece, and she knows that and trusts me. For me that is enough.” Lestrade took her hand to comfort her, knowing a worried Hooper when he saw one, for as brave as Aunt Evelyn was being she was clearly concerned about her niece and the man who would look at her little mouse.

“You had better. If you’re truly serious, about her. If you’re not you had best look someplace else for something frilly to occupy your time with. I will not have my niece hurt in any shape or form. I’m her protector no matter what her father might say, he may be her father, but he’s far too busy carving and absorbed in science to pay much attention. I’m the one with strings to pull and don’t you forget that.” Evelyn gave a single not, to which he returned with an understanding smile. He knew never to cross Aunt Evelyn.

“I won’t ever forget that, and I promise to never hurt her, or leave her.” Lestrade crossed his heart with his finger, to which Evelyn giggled her rather large hat feathers bobbing as she shook with laughter, the man was quite charming. It all looked ridiculous and one would laugh at the sight but not when being scolded as Lestrade was.

“And now I believe you are free to call me Aunt Evelyn. But I will tell you this, I will not have her ending up a spinster like me. That girl deserves a much happier ending than that.” Evelyn smiled once again, returning to her usual self, tossing her shoulders at her own plight in life, she made her way in the world, inheriting from relatives, friends and never lacked for anything. But she still wished that her story wasn't so tragic.

“Of that Aunt Evelyn, you and I are in agreement.” Lestrade nodded sipping his tea. He really did like this new friend, she was quite the enigma of a lady.

“In agreement of what?” Molly questioned, making them both jump in surprise, wondering how long she had been standing at the table before being assisted into her chair by Lestrade. He kissed her head affectionately before saying in her ear.

“Over how beautiful you look today my love.” Molly blushed and simply smiled up at him before he took his seat. Molly was curious at the look her Aunt and her detective inspector exchanged.

“Look at how my niece is flattered so prettily by the Detective Inspector.” Her Aunt was impressed by him. They all laughed and continued to talk, what they didn't see in the background, behind Lestrade was a familiar face looking upon their merry party scornfully, and the whispered exchanged at the table.

They all soon got up to make their way out and only Lestrade noticed the cerulean eyes, green with jealousy, that were following them, but he refused to acknowledge the presence of his ex-wife, looking to Molly and pretending that nothing had happened. The elegant, yet flashy woman continued to watch as the couple said their farewells to the woman she knew was familiar, a woman who was apart of the society she was trying to frequent and then continued walked down the street. She watched them go, and began gossiping about it to the party she was with, gathering information about her ex-husband, and the plain, brown, little mouse that nibbled her way into his arms.

 

\---

 

Lestrade and Molly made their way over to Regents Park, deciding on a refreshing walk to shake off the confusing feelings that overwhelmed them. They were happy to have spent the day with Aunt Evelyn but there was still sadness leftover from burying that poor girl. They walked a bit in silence, Molly with both her hands on Leastrade’s arm, looking off in different directions. Lestrade was surprised when Molly came to a sudden stop, pulling on his elbow. He was about to ask what was wrong when she cut him off.

“Where did it happen? Father said, he said that this is where they found her. Where is it?” Molly met his eyes, with a concerned frown.

“Molly…” Lestrade took her hands in his, ready to dissuade her from letting this sad business cloud her thoughts. Of course they clouded his own, but he could deal with it, he didn't want Molly to have to bear that kind of burden as well.

“Please. I know you think I don’t want to see it. But I believe we owe her that today to at least visit, pass by it, to pay our respects.” She didn't want to see and make Lestrade upset but still she had to know where that poor girl met her end.

“Really? You really want burden yourself with that?” Lestrade questioned just to make sure.

“Yes.” Molly squeezed his hands still holding hers. “If you can bear this burden, over and over with every case you solve, then I can share it with you.” Molly lifted her chin in determination, to which Lestrade smiled. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, the only affection of propriety that he was allowed.

“I don’t deserve you, my dear Molly.” He smiled running a thumb along her jaw line.

“Of course you do, Greg, its you that this brown little mouse doesn't deserve.” Molly smiled in jest but bit her lip in embarrassment when Lestrade looked at her almost disappointed.

“I hope you don’t really think that.” Lestrade didn't need to hear an answer, her blush was telling enough.

“A bit… How can I compare with you sir? You’re everything I am not, handsome, from a wealthy family, confident, I could go on but I’d rather not swell your ego.” Lestrade chuckled at that, loving this silly woman.

“Molly, love, I’m the one who has everything, not because of all those things you just said, but because I have you. Nothing else matters if I don’t have you. You can’t see what I see.” Lestrade lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

“No, I’m-”

“Yes. You are. You’re absolutely beautiful. I‘ll spend my life convincing you of that, if I have to.” Lestrade smiled before giving her a quick peck on the lips, it wasn't appropriate but Lestrade couldn't stop himself, he was pulled to this woman like a magnet. They quickly broke apart before the kiss could naturally get away from them when they heard grousing from passing people walking in the park. Lestrade cleared his throat and Molly adjusted her clothing, their eyes met again and they had a bit of a chuckle. “Shall we make our way over then?”

“Lead the way sir.” Molly smiled sadly as they made their way over to the familiar bench, Lestrade couldn't forget it. Now in the light of this Sunday afternoon it was a normal scene of English park society, children running, couples walking, men on horses trotting by, tipping hats at the people they pass. Lestrade couldn't help but hold a strange contempt at the return to normalcy. There were so many people he had known like Caroline Greyston, anonymous in all but name. He buried them, mostly out of a sense of duty than anything else. But there was no one else to think of them, nothing to commemorate their deaths, society just moved on, as it always seemed to in light of murders and mayhem that sometimes plagued the city.

“This is the spot,” Lestrade said, pulling her down to sit on the bench beside him. He stretched out his legs bringing an arm around Molly’s shoulders, she was grateful for the warmth, cold with similar thoughts as Lestrade. They sat in silence for a while, thinking upon the poor girl and other things. Molly however, could not get passed her curiosity of what was said between the officer the late Miss. Greyston had favored and Lestrade. She was going to let it lie until the officer himself passed, walking along his route, tipping his bobbin hat to both of them. When he was out of hearing distance, Molly could be silent no longer.

“What words came between you and that officer this morning?” Molly questioned looking away, feigning innocence.

“It was nothing, really.” Lestrade had hoped she hadn't noticed, but when he had noticed her looking, their eyes had met and they knew.

“Well, for nothing, it seemed to have angered you. I wasn't trying to ease drop upon it, but I did hear you shout at the poor lad, although I don’t know about what and he seemed so distraught.” Molly met his eyes with worry, wondering what could have come to pass between the two men.

“He was, and over stepped his bounds, unthinking in his angry grief. The young man loved the late Miss. Greyston, he was going to propose that morning. I had to pull rank on the poor sod so he didn't become overly distraught in the middle of the street.” Lestrade shook his head, thinking about what the poor man had said to him. He mentioned Molly, the lady the Detective Inspector had starting courting. The Yard was full of the gossip, and everyone was pleased with the news. The young man looked to her and warned him to not waste time and get married as soon as possible before it was too late. In truth, Lestrade had shouted and pulled rank because the officer had shocked him by saying so. He wanted to, even though they had only been courting a week, it all seemed to happen so quickly. Yet still he couldn't imagine his life without her in it now. Molly looked at him staring of into nothing, to her Lestrade looked at war with whether or not to tell her what had happened. He confided in her so little, yet to him she was an open book.

“What did he say? What could have angered you? Please tell me, Greg.” Molly took his hand, their coupled hands in his lap. He looked down at her hand, tracing his thumb over her knuckles, memorizing the hills and plains of her hand.

“He reminded me of how short life is, and said that I had better marry you before it was too late, before I lost my chance to do so like he had.” He looked up from their joined hands to peer at her through his brow, licking his lips that itched to kiss her. Molly took deep breaths, overwhelmed by intensity of the look in his eyes.

“Poor young man…” Molly shook her head, she laughed slightly a few moments later.

“What’s so funny, little mouse?” Lestrade questioned a crooked smile beginning to grow.

“At least I know that Scotland Yard likes me. They’re pleading my case and I haven’t even met them all yet.” Lestrade chuckled at this.

“Yes, well they like it when the boss is happy. Apparently I've been quite grumpy a while back.” Lestrade stood up from the bench, holding out his hand before Molly could acknowledge why, a sore subject for him and something that went unsaid between them. It was his divorce. “Come, its getting late. We should return you to the good Dr. Hooper before he worries what I've done with you.” Lestrade waggled his eyebrows, laughing, when Molly rolled her eyes at him.

“Stay for dinner.” She said taking his arm.

“As you wish, my Molly mouse.” Molly smiled at this new pet name, something that her family had given to her a long time ago but it was delightful to hear him say it to her. Each day was a step in a direction that pleased her immensely. They returned to the house, enjoying the evening and supped with her father. Her father was glad to find that his indelible sister hadn't scared the Detective Inspector off. This time, however, Lestrade left at a respectable hour, bidding Molly goodnight under her father’s watchful eye, with a chaste kiss and promised that they would see each other again at the Royale. Dr. Hooper was glad that the smile Lestrade put on his daughter’s face was strong enough to last the whole week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! That's the chapter! I have the next chapter ready, now that I've fixed the timeline of the story a bit.
> 
> Kudos and hits! Hooray! So happy at seeing them all! I just am going to have to wait for the comments to come. Don't worry I'm a patient person, and not deterred by it in the least. I might tease you all into commenting with an offer, but I'll keep it under wraps until the next chapter, a way of celebrating my first five chapters. 
> 
> Don't be shy, comment all over me. I want to hear from you all.


	5. Yellow Satin & a Royale Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week passes in deafening silence, Molly's insecurities at Lestrade's failure to confide in her bubble to the surface leaving the ever reliable Aunt Evelyn to sooth and assure and Friday comes with the promise of elegant dining and romance. Doesn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I'm back, but I almost thought I wasn't going to get to post this, my computer caught a virus and I didn't even know it. Leave it to me to be so accepting of an aggressively slow computer that I didn't understand that it had a virus. Now however here I am writing at my normal speed again. I was going to post this chapter last night but spent the night with my father watching the anti-virus program run. But don't worry I'm back in action now!!! 
> 
> This chapter is more Molly and Hooper family-centric than this fic's tags leads even me to believe but trust me on this its for a reason, simply because I felt it necessary to address Molly's issues and how ladies are the one's to sit around waiting. The plight of the Victorian female, hope you like! Oh and I'll include a visual of the dress I describe at the end, if any of you would like let me know and I'll make a sketch of it and show it to you in this chapter as an edit. The yellow dress in this story is a nod to the dress Molly wears in TSoT, I think Molly is one of those people that is sweet and lovely enough to get away with wearing yellow. And Louise Brealy most definitely is as well! I also mention Toby in this chapter realizing I had forgotten about the little thing playing around with the humans but cats are people too!!!
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 5**

**Yellow Satin & a Royale Evening**

 

\---

 

_Hooper Residence, Royale Friday_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

Days came and went, until Friday was upon them. Molly had not had much word from Lestrade. She knew he was busy fighting crime, but a quick note would have been better than the silence that prevailed upon the house. Molly found herself smiling and laughing at things that had occurred between Lestrade and herself at the most inopportune times, usually when the quiet was too much, and to her father’s annoyance as this seemed to always happen when he was reading. She went about her chores as before, but she stirred at every noise, lifted her head up whenever a bell sounded, thinking it might be the bell for their house. Any time it did ring, it was for her father, a new specimen, which she assisted with, but not with her usual enthusiasm. Mostly due to Lestrade, Holmes and Watson not accompanying them. She ate and slept, not one to abandon her routine for the sake of dramatics but still she was kept waiting.

When her aunt had stopped by on Monday to discuss what had occurred on Sunday with Samuel, her father took it upon himself to let her know they were progressing just fine and didn‘t need the help of the one and only Evelyn Hooper. Evelyn ignored his consternation entirely, knowing he was behaving like a father not wanting to lose his daughter and tried to impress upon her brother the necessity of this opportunity for Molly. Her brother little cared for the ways of society and what this match, if it were successful, would mean to the family, to Molly, to everything around them that she married into the family Lestrade. While her lover didn’t associate with the family himself, other than by strained formal letters - how her aunt knew these details that Greg himself hadn’t told her, Molly really didn’t care to know - the Hooper family could only have advantage by her taking his name. To all of this Molly had all but rolled her eyes, none of it mattered if Greg was the end result, prince or pauper, it was of little concern in her mind, and she made that point to her aunt loud and clear. She loved her aunt very dearly but she was not a mare being put on display for a champion racehorse, she hated such games society played. Her father had grumbled, mentioning the dinner on Friday at the Royale, he saw it as proof that he could manage to secure his daughter‘s interests just fine with out his nosy sister‘s help thank you very much.

When it was announced that they were having dinner with Molly‘s intended at the most posh and exclusive restaurant in England, she sputtered looking from her brother to Molly as if they had grown horns, and demanded to know why she had not been told sooner. She turned to Molly wondering aloud why Molly failed to tell her Sunday of the most crucial detail knowing she had taught Molly better, Molly’s eyes grew big and she simply shrugged. Evelyn wiped her mouth with her napkin, slapping it in a not so dainty fashion upon the table, mumbling angered nonsense to herself. She took Molly immediately to her room by the wrist, without dessert, and demanded she be shown Molly’s formal dress. Samuel rolled his eyes and went to the side board in the parlor to pour a brandy and sat in his favorite chair to read knowing they would be gone a while saying “supper is over apparently,” as he took out his book and lit his pipe.

The dress in question was a decent red and black number but was much too old to be considered even remotely fashionable, long sleeved and mended more times than Molly cared to admit, her cheeks turning red with shame. She would not spend her father’s salary on anything unnecessary, like on silly things for herself. Between the dress and her sorry state of choices for shoes, Molly had sat down on her bed in defeat, gripping the dress until her knuckles turned white, disturbing her sleeping tabby cat Toby, who yowled ignored at being disturbed and trotted off in search of mice in the labs. Aunt Evelyn noticed that Molly was fighting tears, she never cried.

When Aunt Evelyn put a comforting hand on Molly‘s shoulder, Molly turned abruptly and spoke in frustration. “It is clear I shall never be able to secure him completely. He may propose, but it will all fall apart in the end. It is little to wonder at, you know more about him than he has ever told me, from his divorce, to his strained family relations. How can I know so little and think he loves me as much as he says? I wait for him to confide in me, but clearly I don‘t need to when I have you.” Molly swiped at a tear angrily when it fell, she hated to cry and even more so when there was someone to witness it.

Aunt Evelyn took a seat next to her niece and took her hands, with an overly-exaggerated sigh. “My dove, I’ve never seen a couple look at each other with love quite the way you two do, at least not in a very long time. I have every confidence that you will be married and in short order. Believe me when I tell you everything within me says that he loves you, I would never let you expose yourself to the hurt of misplaced affections and he is just waiting for an appropriate time to pass before he feels that he can propose. Rebellious or not, he’s a proper gentlemen, and will make moves in a proper fashion. You two already know each other from working together with Sherlock Holmes, you have a prior relationship that makes this courtship rather easy. He may have been married, but from what I hear for a long time now, he was looking at you. All you had to do was admit your feelings for each other, and you did. This all just formality. Don’t be upset little dove, I just want you to look your best while achieving it so there is no doubt in his mind and thinks of no other woman but you. We have an ex-wife to consider in this, who if we’re not careful will try to come back to him, mark my words and try to sneak him away from you when we’re vulnerable. She’s rather a snake of a woman. Once he marries you, you will have more fine dresses than you can imagine, but for now I will have to provide that whether you want me to or not. I am quite determined, my Molly mouse. Seeing you in formal attire is our chance to astound him, and put gossipers in their place. I’ve always taught you that the right dress is a woman’s best weapon.” Molly looked skeptical but Evelyn continued. “I know he has not confided in you, but he has been hurt, by all parties, his ex-wife, family, and his friends and society. All I’ve heard I’ve gained from gossip, from others who have known his family. I cheated in gathering this knowledge without his consent like I told you both Sunday, in an attempt to protect you my dear. I know you would want him to share on his own, but he won’t burden you with all that I know, all that I think I know. He is a protector in every sense of the word. You must show him, when the time is right, that sharing will not burden you heart but will relieve his and strengthen the bond you are forming as a couple. Then he will confess freely, I assure you.” Molly who listened intently was no longer upset but was smirking at her aunt, feeling confident in herself once again and amazed at her aunt‘s skills in matchmaking.

“I don’t know how Aunt Evelyn, you manage to still be single, yet be the most knowledgeable person when it comes to courting and couples.” They both had a laugh at that.

“Well my dear, call them lessons I’ve learned, but I’m past the age of marrying. I passed that long ago, but now I share my wisdom with you. So what say you? Will you allow me to indulge my Molly mouse and dress her up properly for Friday evening?” Aunt Evelyn crossed her fingers when Molly looked away to feign considering Evelyn’s proposal.

“Of course Aunt, needs must. But just this one time!” Molly warned her with a knowing finger, if she let her Aunt have her way, Molly would have a whole new posh wardrobe. Molly refused to wear frippery for the sake of fashion in her father’s parlor room and while she was cutting up cadavers, much to her aunt‘s consternation. “And right now, needs must be in the form of a new fashionable evening dress. The Royale will not tolerate this.” Molly shook she head owning up to this truth, putting her old formal dress aside fondly. Time to move on. Her aunt clapped her hands and warned Molly to be prepared to be quite busy the rest of the week, Molly couldn’t help but know that to be true with a sense of dread.

 

\---

 

Finally Friday morning a missive arrived by way of an adorable scrappy, homeless boy covered in London soot, a dedicated member of the Sherlock Holmes Homeless Network, rather adorable and invaluable, with the invitation to the Royale with both her father’s and her name on it in Holmes’s hand and with it a message from her love tucked inside the envelope, simply put, “I’ll be here at seven.” It was signed with his name and an ‘x’ which she guessed was supposed to be a kiss. It was enough to keep her in high spirits as she laid out her evening dress.

Her Aunt Evelyn had dragged her from the house from practically the moment her father had let slip their plans for Friday. It was a golden yellow satin, and brown lace configuration with an embroidered cream bodice that was exposed through the layers of gathered satin. It was quite extraordinary and made Molly’s subtle beauty sparkle. She hardly recognized herself when the modiste finished the final fitting, her Aunt had applauded the craftsmanship. The brown lace was dark umber, almost black, and swept up her slender neck and came down her back in a curved v shape that exposed a flirtatious swath of skin - she shivered at the thought that she knew Lestrade would probable finger it when no one was looking - but also hung from the yellow satin shoulders in delicate swoops and edged the fabric where it was gathered in the bustle forming a rose accent that tied allowing the rest of the lace to fall in bunches from it. The lace also edged the bottom of the dress that barely swept the floor and came together again at the center of the dress that accented the embroidered cream bodice in matching orange red and purple flowers with green leaves and brown swirling stems underneath to shine. Her waste was tied off with a yellow satin bow and then the lace continued off to her shoulders. All in all the dress and matching shoes, wrap, purse and fan were quite impressive. She couldn’t wait for Lestrade to see her.

But the modest Molly had protested through the entire process of getting it, with her Aunt Evelyn making decisions, nodding and waving away samples of fabrics, lace, fasteners, buttons, shoes, fans, purses. Everything was chosen by her aunt, which Molly was grateful for, feeling overwhelmed at the choices to be made, the process of being put into the dress was agonizing enough. Her aunt knew her taste well enough, the dress was entirely Molly but with a swelling crescendo. She was forced to stand still for hours while she was poked by needles like a pin cushion. She quietly gritted her teeth through the entire process but it was well worth it, the results being the dress she now slipped on.

Her father ordered their cook to help her with her hair, but Molly blushed needing the woman to help her lace her into the dress, which she did effortlessly. The cook simpered and complimented all the while chatting away about the missus, what the gentleman detective would think of her dress, what her friends would say when she told them how beautiful her mistress looked in her fine dress, and how she must be so excited for the evening. All this talk did little to alleviate Molly’s butterflies. The cook put her hair back unknowing of what all her talking was doing to Molly, using braids in swoops towards where the hair was gathered into a bun and tied off with another bow in yellow, and the remainder of her hair was curled in tight pin curls just underneath, the tiny wisps of hair that fell at her forehead, temples brow and neck were allowed to curl softly in a seemingly natural fashion. Apparently before working for her, her cook had been a maid to another family and had often set hair for the young ladies of her house to which Molly would be forever grateful. She needed very little in the way of makeup, just some pink for her lips which Molly was always afraid of being too small and pinching of the cheeks to give them color. The illusion complete it was time for Molly to go out.

When Molly appeared before her father and aunt, her aunt not needing an invitation to be at the Royale and took dinner with another party of elite friends just to be in the same room with Molly that evening, applauded her ensemble to which she demurred. The spotlight was not Molly’s natural milieu. They took tea at six while they waited for the carriage to arrive. Seven came and went causing Molly to wring her hands until at half past seven there was a carriage that arrived. When they came to the door they were escorted to the carriage by the footman and Molly was thinking that Lestrade would be inside and found the carriage empty, Molly was clearly upset. Dr. Hooper patted his daughter’s hands as her brow was permanently creased in worry and her aunt worryingly said nothing.

“Don’t worry my dear, he’s a busy man. There’s nothing to worry about. He must have been running late at the Yard and needed to see to some things, you know how these things go.” Dr. Hooper smiled, and Molly reluctantly smiled in return.

“You’re right father, I’m sure everything is fine.” Molly smiled, as the carriage came to a stop in front of the Royale. They walked into a room of pure elegance, when they said they were apart of the Holmes party they were seen right into the main dining room where Holmes and Watson were waiting and stood in impressed silence at Molly and her dress. Sherlock was the first to move into action, Watson looked down at his feet knowing that Molly was meant for Lestrade and cursed that fact to himself.

“Ah! There you both are!” Holmes announced. “I thought that was Molly when I smelled her perfume.” Watson smiled with a shake of his head, kissing Molly’s hand in greeting and shaking Dr. Samuel’s hand. Molly introduced Aunt Evelyn and she endeared herself to Holmes and Watson before waving to her party across the room and excused herself. Holmes was about to deduce all manner of things about Evelyn Hooper when she walked away but was silenced by a knowing glare from John.

“We’re glad to be here!” Dr. Hooper said reaching out to seat his daughter but was interrupted by Holmes, a job that should have been reserved for the Detective Inspector, but he still hadn’t shown up. Molly did her best not to lose composure as she sat.

Holmes reached down to whisper in Molly’s ear. “I don’t want to alarm you, but Lestrade apologizes for being late. He’s trapped at the Yard, a last minute arrest, but he should be here shortly.” Molly nodded patted at Holmes’s hand that squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. She met Watson’s eyes that smiled confidently, and she returned but with a bit less enthusiasm.

The conversation was pleasant and the food was fantastic, better than Molly and Dr. Hooper had enjoyed in some time, but still no Lestrade. She watched the empty seat across the table all night, willing it to be filled magically by her handsome silver fox but to no avail. Molly spent the other parts of the evening staring at the door waiting for Lestrade to walk in, but by the time the dessert cart came, she knew it was too late. That he would be a no show. She tried to be pleasant, and tried not to cry into her coffee.

“Well it appears by the looks of Molly’s face, that Lestrade will be a no show.” Holmes announced sipping his aperitif. “Although I would applaud your patience Miss. Hooper in waiting for Lestrade all this time, not many women would be so patient.”

“Stop it, Mr. Holmes.” Molly warned with a shake of her head. She could tell he was on his way to one of his rambling deductions but Molly, who usually forgave his genius, was in no mood.

“Sherlock.” Watson warned as well patting Molly’s hand comfortingly to assuage her anger as Holmes would not be deterred. He could only remain polite for so long.

“No, really, don’t you think its interesting, Watson. Here we have at our table this evening, Miss. Molly Hooper, mousy but still pretty in her own way. A woman that seems so desperate to marry this man, a no-show detective inspector, that she allowed her spinster aunt to purchase her seemingly only formal dress, it is brand new and of the most recent fashion, I‘ve only seen that lace in the parlor windows within the last month or two, which means knowing the silly whims of the fairer sex she has been planning for this all week. She was even awake very early this morning for one last fitting, if you notice by the shadows under her eyes that she tried to painstakingly conceal behind powder which I noticed upon her Aunt Evelyn as well. Charming woman, for a spinster, we should have her over for tea Watson, she’d love gossiping with Mrs. Hudson. All of this ensemble in an effort just so that she would be dressed perfectly for our Detective Inspector, to impress upon him that she too can play the part of an elegantly fashionable lady that he can show off to society, a man who is divorced and courting our fair, plain, mousy Molly just six months after. What might we deduce then about the man that is still keeping her waiting?” Holmes questioned the rest of the table, all of whom decided to become enamored with their dessert plates. But Holmes was undeterred.

“Really, sir, is this necessary?” Dr. Hooper questioned. He really didn’t enjoy Sherlock playing deductions at his daughters expense.

“It’s just interesting to me, that someone such as Lestrade would be able to find a way to keep themselves from someone like Molly. He seemed so enamored when he was devouring her neck last week, you remember Watson surely.” Watson’s face grew pink with anger, he had told Sherlock never to mention it, and he mentions it here of all places, but he knows no one was likely to have noticed. “What does it mean? Is he no longer interested? Is he more interested in his work than he is in spending time with Molly? Is it her mousy, plain looks that keep him so unenthused? Or does he just not know that he was being kept away the entire evening because the man never checks his watch?” Holmes smirked thinking he had made a great joke taking a bite of cake before stumbling when Molly hit her hand indelicately on the table and stood. Her anger no longer able to be contained, tears on the verge of spilling over. Dr. Hooper noticed his sister’s concerned glance from across the table. The rest of the Royale was silent except for whispered comments about the beautiful Miss. Hooper, all in yellow who was missing her fellow. Gossipers were hardly what one would call creative, expect when crafting more gossip.

“Well this has been lovely but I’ve had quite enough for one evening. Thank you, for everything gentlemen. Mr. Holmes it was a marvelous dinner, Dr. Watson a pleasure as always. My father and I had a lovely time but we really must be going, I must visit the powder room, excuse me. Please…” They all heard the small quiver in her voice that came from Molly’s lips before she hastened out of the dining room. They heard another ‘excuse me’ from across the room as her Aunt was shortly bustling after her, the rest of the room continued on chattering again as if back to normal but talk floated around about the poor girl that had been kept waiting.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.” Watson groused throwing his napkin on top of the table. Once again, Holmes had deduced an evening out to rot.

“If you excuse me gentlemen, I believe I will wait for my daughter in the hall. The air in here has become too stuffy for me.” Dr. Hooper announced standing up shaking both of their hands letting Holmes know he should stop by during the coming week for some interesting finds of his before walking out of the dining room as well. It was his small indication that while Holmes had deduced Molly to tears, her father was forgiving of it, knowing Holmes couldn’t help it. He left the men alone, for Sherlock probably to be subject to a scolding by Watson which was funny because Sherlock would not listen to it. It wasn’t that Sherlock’s deductions didn’t bother him, they did but the Doctor knew Holmes only dealt in facts like himself, and those facts were usually right. He was thundering with anger at the only man to blame for Molly’s tears, a certain Detective Inspector that if he didn’t make the proper overtures in ways of apology to his distressed daughter was going to get his comeuppance from her father.

When Molly and Aunt Evelyn came out of the powder room, her hair and make up in place she found her father waiting for her with her wrap, already dressed to leave. She smiled apologetically at him and went to take her wrap from him when they were stopped by a waiter with a silver tray. “A note for you, Miss.” The waiter quickly disappeared, and Molly saw her name on the envelope knowing it was from him without looking. She tore open the note without hesitation, nervous as to whether it would make her happy or fill her with anger at what he had to say. She looked to her aunt, and knew that she would just as soon ignore whatever the man had to say for not showing tonight. But Molly couldn’t, looking down to the note. Her aunt held onto her brother’s elbow waiting to hear. He watched her face brighten and then frown before relief filled her features.

“Well?” Her father inquired as he helped her with her wrap, they both said farewell to her aunt, encouraging her to stay and Molly whispered something in her Aunt’s ear to make her smile. Dr. Hooper still was at a loss for what had occurred and escorted her to the cab that waited questioning what the note said. His daughter seemed to ignore all of it until she was at last seated inside the cab to go home.

“He writes with his sincere apologies for not being able to make it but was held up at the Yard, he hadn’t known at the time how long booking the arrest had taken and by the time he had made it out knew that it would have been unseemly to show himself and he’s right we were already onto dessert when he at last was able to get away.” She smiled sadly, knowing that it still would have been nice for him to have been there anyway.

“And what? What else does he have to say for himself?” Her father seemed impatient for her to get to the crux of the letter. He wanted to know what Lestrade intended to do about missing the most important night of their courtship so far.

“He’s going to make it up to me Friday next. He’ll be purposefully taking off work and we’re going to have the whole day just to ourselves. Then he’s going take us out to dinner to the Royale on Saturday evening and invites you father and says we should invite someone else to make it an even party. Well it would be good to invite Aunt Evelyn along, wouldn’t it?” She inquired. Looking up from the letter, hoping he would be receptive to Lestrade trying to make up for his absence this evening.

“Oh yes, it all sounds delightful.” Her father laughed at the happy expression on her face when just before she looked about ready to cry rivers full of tears.

“I’ll have a message sent ‘round to Aunt Evelyn, tomorrow. She’ll be happy for the occasion to see me all dressed up again. It all sounds just perfect.” Molly smiled to herself to look out the window at the moon over the city. Everything was just as it should be, once again. It had been a lovely evening even if Lestrade hadn’t been there and even though Sherlock had made her feel a fool for trying so hard. He could think what he liked, she knew it had been perfect. But in the end Lestrade’s letter was the perfect balm to her fears, she hadn’t mentioned to father that he had concluded the letter with the most affectionate words for her and how he would be depressed for having missed seeing her all dressed up in her most elegant dress for him. He made her promise in her letter that she would wear exactly what she was wearing tonight when they went out again so that he would feel as if he hadn’t missed a thing. She held the letter to her heart to seal the promise to do so. Although she did wonder what he had planned. It would have to wait until next Saturday. She hoped however, that she wouldn’t have to wait until that day to see him again.

 

\---

 

The next day found Molly greeted in the afternoon by a messenger boy, sans soot, but with a suspicious dimpled smile carrying a bouquet of wild flowers with a message that simply read “miss you terribly.” She cherished this note and let its sentiments carry her through the day. Her father noted the flowers and their prominence in the parlor but made little in the way of comment, only laughed.

Her aunt replied to their note with delight, and said they should discuss it all over their usual Sunday lunch. Molly looked forward to it.

When Molly alighted from the carriage on Sunday she was shocked to have been offered the hand of her Detective Inspector. She gasped in delight and laughed, reaching out to hug him before laying a kiss upon his lips. Her Aunt laughed at this, not suspecting him to make an appearance either. They were lost in their own world Molly delighted to see him and Lestrade exclaiming how much she was missed before her Aunt ‘ahemed’ and called their attention to her. They immediately recalled themselves as if they were love struck youths to which Aunt Evelyn laughed. The day continued in the same progression it had the week before, with lunch with Aunt Evelyn, her being invited to complete their party at the Royale, an intimate stroll through the park together, alone, which gave Lestrade the opportunity to explain what had occurred at the Yard, a suspect in a petty crime being bailed out anonymously giving rise to suspicion of something more heinous afoot, leaving Lestrade and his men to try to track the money to no avail. They had dinner at the Hooper house giving Lestrade the opportunity to apologize to Dr. Hooper to which the doctor groused before laughing at his daughter’s scolding face. It all made for a very delightful weekend. But they little suspected what trials waited for them that week.

 

\---

 

A/N: Here is the picture of the dress, just picture something similar to this only with yellow satin forming almost a jacket almost over the square embroidered bodice, all the flower details you see in the lace here appearing in the cream bodice as embroidery and the brown lace creating a high turtleneck. But it doesn't trail down the back, but rather more sweeps.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BA DA BADA!!!! Look at that cliff... do you like the way it hangs? *dodges flying objects being thrown in my general direction* Sorry that was mean, I'm slightly sadistic a writer to enjoy having done that but only a little. Don't worry you won't have to wait very long for an update I promise you all. I'm practically in the process of writing it now.
> 
> Oh the comments!!! They've finally come!!! You all are wonderful, comments hits and kudos, I'm going to plotz!!! Shout out to my first two commentors mellie and cornishrexmomma. Thank you!!! I'm so appreciative!!! I might have a surprise for them being my first two commmentors and this being the 5th chapter of this story. My readers loyal readers deserve a present!!! Look for my message!! 
> 
> Don't be shy everyone!!! I hope to hear from you all!! Leave comments or kudos and you to might get a surprise when I get to chapter 10! *waggles eyebrows*


	6. Answers, Threats & a Harpoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues...
> 
> What kept Lestrade away? What happens before Friday and Lestrade's surprise? What is a harpoon doing in the wall at 221B Baker Street? 
> 
> Answers to all these questions and more, in this chapter! Read on, dear readers, read on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't keep you with a long innocuous note this time around. I'll save it all for the end. I'll only say this, it may have been a cliff hanger, but you'll see once you finish reading this chapter that I delivered. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 6**

**Answers, Threats, & a Harpoon**

 

\---

 

_Scotland Yard, Royale Friday_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

What could have been so important that could keep Lestrade away from seeing Molly on one of the most important evenings of their courtship? Lestrade had wondered that himself as he checked on the progress of the money trail they had been following that evening. It was all to no avail. Dead ends, all of them. It was worrisome, the money either came from somewhere too far out of their reach with too much power for them to touch, someone who practically lived outside the law or whom ever bailed this lowlife out knew how to cover up their tracks, meaning there could be more of these guys out on the streets. It didn’t make for a pretty picture either way and Lestrade grumbled and groused his way back into his office flopping into his chair and tiredly ran his hands over his face.

He had somewhere he was supposed to be tonight. This certainly wasn‘t the place, Lestrade thought he was going to get away from this place for once. He finally checked his watch, too single minded to realize he had wasted all of his time in this fruitless search. It was a quarter past ten in the evening. He groaned, his heart sore at realizing how ridiculously late it was, he had told Sherlock to mind his manners, to let Molly know as kindly as possible what was going on at the Yard, and he could imagine the dinner party being well into the end of the main courses and moving onto the dessert tray. He refused to ponder what sort of dress she had chosen, he didn’t want to torture himself. But he imagined Molly choosing something chocolate and covered in icing, and she would dip her finger into it for just a taste, and as innocuous and innocent as her actions were, they would have been his sweet torment. He groaned at this thought, the realization that he was most definitely missing out on the best evening of his life and had left Molly at the Royale all alone. Never had he treated a lady thus. It went against his very nature and it made him absolutely wretched inside. She’d probably never want to see him again. No, he couldn’t think that of Molly, she knew his line of work and what it entailed, it probably was what made her so enticing to him. His ex had been a bear to deal with on that point, clueless as to why he would chose to be a Detective Inspector when he was going to inherit his fortune from the family. But no not Molly, she only hoped to see him that evening no matter what. He could probably appear now and she’d still be delighted.

But he wouldn’t make for good company. No, Lestrade could already feel the melancholy set it. The big brood as his ex-wife deemed it. He was a bit like Sherlock in this respect. Once something like this case got away from him, Lestrade could be in this miserable attitude for hours, days even, until it was resolved. Whenever a case or criminal got away from him, he would brood. Lestrade knew how this evening would end, he would go back to a cold, dark apartment, sit before the empty hearth and stare into the nothingness, and then he would ponder, brood and wait. Wait for word of another crime, a break in the lack of evidence. Wait for Molly to never speak to him again, wait for other criminals to get away with murder. For this arsehole in particular to commit the same crime again, and look just as smug doing it.

Lestrade was in no condition and no mood for the lavish affair and pretty words Molly so required right now. And it was by far too late to be considered appropriate for him to show himself now. Stopping by the Hooper Residence was one thing, but this was a place to be seen by the public, this was the Royale. Gossip would flow, and he didn’t want to cause any more than there would be for his not being there at all. He was disgusted with how this whole evening turned out. So he simply told his team to stay on their leads and report the next day. He left the yard. His team knew not to disrupt him when his brow was so thunderous, they wondered when he left, why he had stayed to work with them at all when he was so clearly dressed for a nice night out. The Yard gossip flew in his absence, until a fellow detective by the name of Dimmock called the talk to order, he had arrested the man for murder and called Lestrade in on the case in the first place. It was his blame for ruining his boss‘s evening.

Lestrade walked out of Scotland Yard and into the direction of the apartments he currently resided in, a short walk and in no way anything that could shake the feeling that settled on his face and into his tense shoulders. These apartments were not home, as he looked up at the house that contained them. He refused to think of his living quarters as something as comfortable as that. They were just someplace to hang his hat, and a place to sleep. No, he had sold off the house he and his ex had resided in when he first considered divorce not able to look at those walls and in actuality, home was where ever Molly would be. Of that he knew now, as he put his key into the door and opened it. Lestrade was surprised by the small fire that greeted him, glad of it, but it was hardly enough to warm the place. He could forgive the cold drafty place now, as the dark and long shadows cast by the fire matched his mood. He hung up his hat, coat, cravat, jacket and vest. All the finery he had painstakingly put on was removed in haste. He through the watch fob, that was once his father’s that was his only inheritance from the man and only worn on special occasions at the mantle. He didn’t want to wear this frippery anymore, didn’t want to see it, to remind himself… An surprising ache settled into his side as he stirred the fire, which wouldn’t give much life no matter how much he poked at it. Fine, it matched his mood and the evening. He was missing Molly.

He sat before the fire, in the one chair that, other than the bed, furnished the place. The table next to the chair clean of all of his newspapers. Only his personal stationary and quill pen stood atop it. The fire burned itself away and now it was slowly dying. He didn’t care. All he could think of were Molly, and the man that had slipped through his fingers this evening.

Lestrade had been on his way out when the call had come. His men had promised it was going to be quick, it was an obvious crime. The man in question had stood over the body he was found with, a bloody knife in one hand and blood on both. The victim was a scam artist that was well known to Lestrade, forever committing the silliest of crimes to Lestrade’s continued frustration, and now he was dead. Greg had barely finished booking the suspect before there was a fat wad of cash there to free him. A very large wad had been placed in his hands by a bobby stating that a judge, orders from a so-and-so Lord Justice on High, had ruled him free to go. Lestrade simply stood there in stupefaction. The rest of the force in the Yard knew not to speak. He turned an ugly shade of red, and the suspect passed Lestrade, walking without handcuffs and blew a raspberry in his general direction. Lestrade fumed, claiming that if they didn’t find that money trail no one was allowed to leave for the night. He marched to his office and slammed the door. His men had quivered into action but he gave up as soon as his anger died away. No Molly, no direction, and no way to catch the damn great sod that got away with murder on top of everything else. These were Lestrade’s thoughts as he stared into the fire.

He knew not how to make it up to Molly, it would have to be something big. He was aware of at least that much. He rolled ideas around in his head, wondering what would do for his Molly mouse. He thought of days before they started courting and had just been friendly with each other, maybe even slightly flirtatious on his part, even though he had still been for all intents and purposes married. It had mattered not to him then, the wife already keeping rooms and company of other men, well done with and moved on from him. He redirected his thoughts to what Molly did when he stopped by with Sherlock. They would sit together mostly, but then there were the times he watched her assist her father, her tiny hands working more delicately and precisely than her father was capable of doing, getting deeper into the body cavities, than both men could. He had watched her face light up with fascination, the vision keeping him entertained for days after. It was then he came up with a solution to his conundrum of how to make this wretched night up to her.

He quickly wrote a missive and rang for service. When someone appeared, a butler, dressed but clearly looking tired at the hour to serve one of the masters of the house. Lestrade apologized for the late hour, he checked his watch seeing it was a quarter to eleven, he hoped this would reach her in time. He gave the missive to the man and gave instructions for it to be delivered to the Royale posthaste. The butler then disappeared, quick to action. Lestrade returned to the fire and realized that Sunday he could make an appearance, the thought put some life back into his features but it was short lived as he remembered there was still a murderous criminal out on the streets of London. That thought did little to comfort him. He would stay staring at the fire until the graying London morning sent him to bed. He dreamed of Molly, dining with her privately in a room twice the Royale’s size and longed for it to be Sunday.

Lestrade while he had enjoyed his time with Molly on Sunday, was still found brooding over missing out on seeing her dress even while in her presence. Her Aunt Evelyn hadn’t wasted time in pouring on the details of the evening and he was more than a little perturbed at Molly being the target of Sherlock’s hurtful deductions, which Molly had told him about during their stroll through Regents Park. She brushed it aside but he couldn’t. He wasn’t there to defend her, and worse yet that was the very reason Sherlock had done it. Lestrade felt guilty to have caused Molly so much hurt in the course of the evening, as he had sat in his lonely apartment brooding over the man that got away.

That was something he wasn’t prepared for Molly to get to know about him. It didn’t take much to bring it out of him, a man that gets away, an injured civilian, a man he was forced to hurt in order to restrain him, a family he was forced to leave in desperate circumstances because their father had gambled with working outside the law and lost, all these reasons and more could send him into a brood that lasted days until he either did something or moved onto the next case. He had brooded that first evening of their courtship when he had to shoot those poor bastards down at the docks but Molly and Samuel were there to keep him from doing it for very long.

But Friday night his thoughts wouldn’t leave him. And on Sunday, he was still troubled by the criminal that had escaped through his grasp. This lowlife was the worst kind, encouraged with the thoughts that he was above the law and could get away with everything. Lestrade was worried so much that Molly had to call him from his thoughts during their walk several times. She had been speaking at the time, only slightly miffed at him not listening but she was too sweet to be bothered for long. He soothed her worried concern with hidden kisses behind trees. Greg had a feeling though that soon and very soon, kisses and sweet words wouldn’t be enough. Soon he would have to let her into his deeper, darker parts. Lestrade wondered if he could let go, if he was ready, and let her in.

At least she had gotten his letter and was looking forward to her special day, and when pressed Lestrade swore she wouldn’t find out and buttoned his lip. Molly would just have to wait until that coming Friday. Lestrade found happiness at her impatience for the day to come. It was something to look forward to, and he hoped nothing got in the way until then. But he did tell her that her father would be getting the body from the murder and that he would be grateful for her help in the autopsy, there was something about this that bothered him, and the usual work of Anderson and the other Yard Examiners just wouldn’t do. Molly promised and they concluded their evening delightfully of which he was grateful.

 

\---

 

Molly and her father began their week in the usual fashion, the body Lestrade had promised them showed on their doorstep first thing Monday morning. Molly donned her gloves and watched in fascination as her father prepped the body. It was a gruesome sight, with many lacerations in the abdomen, so naturally her father and she decided to start there after performing the preliminary examination.

They worked meticulously, but her father had concluded the cause of death upon seeing the amount of blood in the abdomen and chest cavity and it was fairly obvious. He took his gloves off and allowed Molly to finish her own investigations, while he gave his report to the policemen that were waiting for it in their parlor. Molly counted herself lucky that he was giving her this opportunity without his instruction to guide her. But they both knew she needed no such instruction.

She began to meticulously sort through the abdomen, and had been feeling around the small intestine when she felt an unusual mass inside it. She lifted her head to call upon her father to rejoin her but changed her mind. It was probably nothing, but her fascination with something unusual couldn’t be kept at bay and she made short work of cutting an incision and removing the object. She had expected it to be a strange article of food or something of that nature but was shocked when she removed a key. This man had swallowed a key. It looked to be to a lock or box of some sort but she couldn’t determine what it was, and dumped the key into a waiting steel bowl of water. She removed her gloves and finished cleaning off the key. Molly marked the key as evidence and put the key, evidence bag and all into her pocket. She put it out of her mind and went about cleaning up the body on the slab. Then she would go about her chores and hopefully see Lestrade, then show him her find.

When Lestrade didn’t visit that evening, Molly decided that she would visit with him the next day. Her preference being to always see him whenever possible. She went to bed with that in mind. Only to be woken up in the middle of a peaceful dream by a shout from the labs. She ran down the stairs barely able to keep her wrap about her person and discovered the place was turned upside down. Papers and book rained down over the floor and she heard the cellar window flap shut. She swallowed, horrified that apparently the thief that had ransacked the labs was just missed. She slowly approached the slab that had previously held the body from the day, looked around it and gasped when she found Dr. Hooper lying face down on the floor. She turned him over and he appeared to only be knocked out, a welt forming on his brow. Once she checked to make sure he was fine, rousing when he was shook, she rose to call for the police.

An examination upon the labs showed that nothing had been stolen, just what Molly had seen and heard when she came down to the labs and then Dr. Hooper, who had been up late working on his notes from the autopsy that morning, he was puzzled over the motivation that the murderer would have had to stab the body, and then heard the cellar window. Dr. Hooper harrumphed at his own foolishness, he had always meant to have it barred. The police left shortly after seeing that there was nothing more that they could do, while regrettable that someone had broken in, and hurt the doctor. But who was going to tell the Detective Inspector that his girlfriend’s place was broken into? Both men decided to leave it for the night and tell him the next day.

When she finally gotten her father to sleep, Molly set about cleaning the lab, no longer able to return to bed herself. Her father had said something about the robber asking where “it” was and then hit Dr. Hooper on the head when he questioned what the man was talking about. This all made very little sense to her, still there was something about that key that currently sat in the evidence bag upon her vanity. Something that was needling at her, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

First thing in the morning, she would take the key to Sherlock. While she thought that Lestrade would want to be the first to know, Sherlock would be the first to realize the purpose of the key. It was more efficient. And Lestrade would probably involve the man anyway, if he hadn‘t already. She knew that Lestrade was going to visit Sherlock in the morning as well, although not for the same reason, even though she begged him not to make a fuss over Sherlock‘s hurtful behavior at the Royale, she just hoped he could forgive her for appearing during Sherlock‘s scolding with evidence.

 

\---

 

Sherlock paced around 221B the following morning in an agitated state, Lestrade had come by after the Royale dinner first thing Monday morning to talk to him about the case that was currently causing the man to sulk terribly with a promise to visit this very Tuesday morning over something completely unrelated but Sherlock had boasted that he would have the solution to his conundrum before he walked through the door. But he hadn’t and it was puzzling him.

Sherlock was used to the world weighing on the Detective Inspector’s shoulders but this was too much. Of course Sherlock took the case, it was proving to be an interesting one. There was no motive, none that the Detective Inspector could see, nothing but cold blooded murder. Holmes was used to that sort of crime, but this didn‘t seem to fit. The men had no connection, the man that had committed the crime was a lowlife but murder was not his area.

Sherlock was missing data. There was something missing, something he couldn‘t put his finger on as he paced back and forth with his harpoon, his violin laid untouched on his chair. In this kind of state he simply could not pick up the violin, thinking on a case was one thing, he was purely frustrated. John had left apparently. Sherlock found out when he asked Watson “what could drive a man to murder someone he had never met before and had no connection with, John?“ And had gotten no response, said his name again and was greeted by an empty room. Something about visiting a woman, Mary Mor-something. He had been to the Hooper Residence, and turned up nothing. Molly had not been there at the time, so he hadn‘t a chance to question her, out on an errand apparently. While the good Dr.Hooper was a good sort and thorough in his methods, he was well practiced so he was used to seeing all manner of mutilation of the body and had dismissed the case as simple without really having a look. When the doctor asked if he should have, Sherlock simply harrumphed and left without a word.

Even though he promised to have it solved, currently, Sherlock had turned up nothing. Not even the Homeless Network could give him any clues as to why a man with no relation or ties to the other, would all of a sudden give chase, according to what the homeless network had witnessed and then violently stab the man to death just to watch him die. Criminals were vicious but this was something else, there was data missing. Sherlock knew it, he could feel it in his bones. He just couldn‘t put his finger on the answer. He was running out of time before Lestrade showed and with Watson gone to see his new attraction whom he now remembered went by the name of a Miss. Mary Morstan, who in Sherlock’s view was absolutely suspect. Sherlock was out of ideas and with no way to come up with a solution. He growled with frustration and threw his harpoon at the wall. It went through the wall, and out the other side apparently from the sound of Mrs. Hudson shrieking and screaming about how the repayment for the wall was coming out of his rent. He sneered. The wall had it coming.

 

\---

 

When morning broke, and Molly had seen her father up and ate breakfast with him, no worse for the wear, she set out on her mission. She was going to see Sherlock and give him this key that seemed to burn through her pocket. She donned her wide brim hat and grabbed her purse. Her father chose to have a restful day seeing to reorganization of the labs, she had warned him not to tax himself but she knew that organizing was one of his favorite things to do. She had kissed him farewell saying where she was going, her father unconcerned with anything involving Sherlock, to which she had questioned but he dismissed. Molly simply shrugged as she headed out the door, familiar with the consulting detectives manner with others. Somehow Sherlock had known about the case, apparently told about it by Lestrade and now he was sniffing out the answers, but was rude to father, the previous day. If Sherlock knew about it, then this was more than it appeared. And with all due haste she left and quickened her way to Baker Street. The sooner Sherlock deduced what this key was the sooner this case could be solved. She shook her head at her foolishness for withholding it from her father, he wouldn’t be injured now and would have known what to do with it. She made her way in the general direction of Baker Street, stopping every street or two to make sure she was heading in the right direction.

However she didn’t see the man that followed behind her, beady eyes trained upon her. Once he had heard the coppers the night before speak of that stupid Detective Inspector’s attachment to this lady, he knew she must be the only way of getting what he wanted. Hearing her speak of visiting the Consulting Detective through the window only confirmed his suspicions. The lass was up to something.

 

\---

 

Lestrade knocked brashly on the door of 221 on Baker street. He was angry, resentment over this case sitting deep in his chest. He had gotten a barrel of scolding from his superiors at the Yard, the Chief Inspector was trying to start himself a political career and blamed Lestrade every time something of this nature happened, when criminals could just buy their way out of the system. It wasn’t something that Lestrade could help. It was the system’s fault not his, still that didn’t save him from the lecture he got anyway. Between that and trying to find where the perpetrator got the money to be freed, Lestrade was more than ready to give Sherlock the dressing down he deserved.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door in quite the state, pulling him inside by the lapels and begging him for something Lestrade couldn’t understand. She blubbered and whimpered barely able to utter a syllable. By the time Lestrade got her to say something he had the full picture, and he was getting right tired of dealing with Sherlock and his every mood. Apparently Watson wasn’t around to calm him and since Lestrade gave him the case, he had rampaged all over the apartments, complaining of some missing piece, and in a fit of rage threw a harpoon through Mrs. Hudson’s wall as she was bringing him his morning tea. Lestrade calmed her down but left her mid-sentence, he regretted doing it but he had enough of Sherlock’s ridiculous behavior. He marched into the apartments and immediately had sympathy for Watson being his roommate. The whole place was a disaster, and the smell was worse.

“Sherlock!” Lestrade choked out his name from the door, before stepping over to open a window. The London air was surprisingly better than the accursed air in the apartments. Sherlock appeared from somewhere in the apartments wearing dock workers gloves and a metal mask.

“Ah! Lestrade! Perfect timing! My apologies for the assaulting smells. I believe I know what piece I am missing but I need to speak to Molly, I believe she has it. It took me running an experiment or two, producing the most astounding scent effects upon the olfactory senses and has also produced, John will be disappointed to hear, the most interesting hallucinogenic visions. Now that you have opened the window, so goes my experiment.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, and sighed in frustration removing his gloves and blinking. He seemed almost manic.

“I don’t care what you’ve been doing, I’m not here to talk about the case. You’re not speaking to Molly from now on unless I’m there. You made her cry at the Royale. And allow me to iterate something else to you, you owe her an apology.” At Sherlock’s astonished smirk, thinking him ridiculous Lestrade fumed putting his hands on his hips, unconsciously licking his lips, the man was practically foaming at the mouth. “Yes. That’s right. The great Sherlock Holmes is going to apologize. I mean it Sherlock. Either you apologize or else I will no longer allow you to consult on my cases.” Sherlock appeared outraged, which was the only clue that Lestrade had that he was being understood. The detectives blue eyes were almost completely dilated, a sliver of a blue ring around the edge. “Don’t tempt me, Sherlock. You deserve it for throwing a harpoon through the wall alone. You nearly killed your poor landlady.”

“Oh she’s fine. It missed her by at least a foot.” Sherlock smiled picking up his violin, he began tuning the instrument.

“A foot?” Sherlock! That’s not the point. You can not just throw around harpoons!” Lestrade scolded jabbing a finger into Sherlock’s chest.

“Why not? The wall had it coming.” He announced, pointing to the wall where the harpoon still poked out from it.

“And why would that be?” Lestrade was loosing ground in his argument. This wasn’t about a harpoon at all.

“It was staring at me while I was trying to think of what was missing from the case.” For the life of him, Lestrade had a hard time distinguishing between Sherlock and a child having a strop.

“There’s nothing missing. I gave you everything.” Lestrade said waving at the case file that currently papered the hard wood floor.

“Yes there is.” Sherlock announced with a determined lift of his chin from his chair.

“And what would that be?” Lestrade crossed his arms waiting for an explanation.

“I don’t know but Molly does. If you won’t help me, I’ll have to go over there myself and find out.” He made a move to get up but Lestrade sat him down forcibly, a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“You’re not allowed to speak to her until you apologize. You hurt her feelings with your deductions and I’ll not be having it.” Lestrade pointed a finger in Sherlock’s face.

“Well that’s hardly my fault you should have been there.” If Lestrade was going to scold him over something so ridiculous with a case on, Sherlock was going to let him have it.

“I was held up by this case. Damn it, man. I left her in your care!” Sherlock stood back up and moved so that they were facing each other, Sherlock being the taller of the two. That didn’t however take away any of Lestrade’s authority.

“Well that was an unfortunate mistake on your part.” Sherlock growled tired of this scolding, there were more important things to talk about, Lestrade could see he was about to deduce Lestrade about this whole ordeal as well. He put a finger to the man’s chest in warning.

“Sherlock.” If Sherlock said what he was about to Lestrade was going to murder him, the anger boiling up inside him.

“No really, it is still curious to me, why did you leave her alone that evening? Case or not you should have been there. There’s plenty of men at the Yard. You didn’t have to be there. What could possibly be so important that could keep a man in love away from the one woman he actually loves. And what about that ex-wife? One can’t help but wonder at what will happen when those two women collide. Molly had better brace herself, that’s a disaster waiting to happen.” That had caused Lestrade to trip over his anger just a little. The hurt in his eyes though, Sherlock regretted that but only a little.

“That’s none of your business Sherlock Molly can-” They were about to go back at it even worse than before until a certain mouse interrupted.

“I can what, Greg?” Molly had chosen that exact moment to enter the room. Neither gentlemen knew how much of what they were discussing Molly had heard but she hadn’t heard much, just the mention of Lestrade’s ex-wife. It hurt a very little but it scratched the surface of that problem that she continued to have with their courtship.

For now, she let it be. This case was far more important. She was holding an evidence bag in her hand. Lestrade was about to inquire why when she walked over the table between the two gentlemen’s chairs, set it down and went back to the door, with every intention of leaving. Lestrade was about to tell her to wait, stupefied that she was even there when she turned to speak. “I hope you both forgive me, I thought what it is in that bag was something insignificant at the time, and with Papa injured by the break in we had, I had almost forgotten about it. But now it seemed more important.” Molly looked down at her hands, contrite.

“You had a break-in? When?” Lestrade questioned his chest once again filling with anger. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“Last night I thought the policemen that had reported it would have told you.” Molly looked up at that thinking it strange as well.

“I guess they hadn’t.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at the innocuous conversations, and picked up the item in question, opening the bag to take it out. “A key? This makes no sense, a key to what?” Sherlock was already lost to the new piece of evidence.

“Yes, and I do not know, that is why I determined that it would be best to bring it to your attention in the course of the morning. And when Papa had said the intruder had inquired about something he should have had before concussing him, I figured that perhaps it had something to do with the body itself. I had done a little investigating after Father had ruled the cause of death. He excused it out of hand but I dug around the abdomen and found that in small intestines.” Molly announced glad that at mention of where and what she had to do to find it, Lestrade didn’t appear too angry, but neither did he appear appalled.

Lestrade looked from the key to Molly and saw a figure behind her.

“I know what it is! Yes! Now it makes sense! The key is the thing!” Sherlock announced gleeful and finally having a break in the case, the pieces falling into place.

“Yes and I believe that key is mine.” The shadow that had been standing behind Molly revealed himself, to show the man that had slipped through Lestrade's fingers. This insignificant key proved to be of more importance than first assumed. It was everything.

“MOLLY!” Lestrade shouted just as an arm came around Molly’s throat with a knife pointed at her jugular. Lestrade pulled out his pistol and immediately had it pointing in the intruder’s direction. Unfortunately he questioned whether he could shoot the man without hurting Molly. The air in the room stilled, time froze, there was just the man holding Molly by the throat, Sherlock, and himself. Lestrade tried not to pay attention to the way his gut clenched at seeing her in danger, the swooping feeling felt like a bucket of cold water over his body. Everything in his body was wretched and screamed “get Molly back and make her safe.”

Lestrade could feel his whole body tensing, ready to strike, a panther. Sherlock tensed, his brow thunderous. Criminals were free to attack him, his friends and family were another story. He tried to come up with some sort of plan to disarm the man or at least make him loosen his grip upon Molly’s neck so that she could free herself and run to Lestrade, to the safest place for her. Unfortunately he cursed the harpoon that still protruded from the wall too far for the man to grab and use against them but still too far for himself to grab.

Molly for her part was holding onto the gruesome man’s arm and trying not to appear as frightened as she felt. She whimpered when he dug the knife deeper into her flesh. She knew it was just a matter of a bit more pressure and her flesh would give way like the flesh of cadavers would against her own scalpel. The thought made her gulp. They all had a tense moment of silence, Sherlock and Lestrade holding the gaze of the criminal, Molly looking to both men hoping that they would save her. The man gripped her harder, bruising her person and causing Molly to cry out. He pressed the blade further ending her shouts on a whimper.

“I believe you’ll be dropping those guns now. Don’t think I’m stupid Mr. Holmes. I was warned about you. You‘ll be staying right in my line of sight and unmoving or I‘ll gut this pretty little lady here I swear it.” The man spoke thunderously and without remorse. His eyes concealed nothing and they knew he most likely beheld joy when he gutted the man he murdered. Lestrade dropped his gun with his hands up in the air. Sherlock revealed the gun from behind his back, not Watson’s though, he had kept Lestrade’s side piece that he was loaned the night of the dock shooting. Lestrade met his eyes and Sherlock simply shrugged. They looked to Molly again, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Lestrade looked to her now, finally meeting her eyes trying with all his might to withhold his feelings. They threatened to overwhelm him, he was going to drown in them. He couldn’t, trying to fight the feeling. Not now, not when everything depended upon him, his Molly’s very life stood in the balance. If he didn’t keep a cool head, it could mean her life. He tried to hold her gaze and not be weakened by it. To instead, give her the strength, to show her that she had nothing to fear, that he would fix this, his heart swelled with love when she echoed the looks he was giving her.

Sherlock picked up the key that laid on the table, gently, the sound of it scraping the table reverberating in the silence that prevailed over the room, calling attention to what this rogue had come for. “I believe you came for this? What is it? What does it unlock?” Sherlock questioned tossing the bag that held the key in his hands.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll be having it.” The rogue announced in Molly’s ear, his voice alone threatened now to make her sick.

“My guess. My deduction is that it leads to a safety deposit box in a bank, judging by its size cut and relative condition, where some sort of treasure it kept. And you either get to keep it or receive money in exchange for this item. The question is who would put together such a scheme? It reeks of Moriarty. But everyone in this room that would know such a name, knows him to be dead.” Sherlock walked around to put himself between Lestrade and the criminal and Molly. The mention of the Consulting Criminal shuddered across the room reminding them all of how they almost lost Sherlock to the man’s schemes. Molly’s assistance, the only thing that had saved him from the fall into the water at Richenbach. Sherlock unlike the others had heard a cab stop below, he could only hope that it was who he thought it was, and that whom it was, was armed.

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder at Mr. Holmes.” The man sneered he chose that moment to realize there was a finer jewel wrapped in his arms. “And I believe I’ll be keeping this pretty little thing for a treat. Probably won’t make it out of this room if I don’t keep ‘er. She’s a bit plain for me but she be tasty none the less wouldn’t she?” Molly whined with a wince as he licked the side of her face. Her stomach roiled at the thought of being anywhere near this man in the capacity he was thinking of. Lestrade trembled as he watched this devious man torment her. He would pay. He hadn’t realized his feet were moving until Sherlock braced him from moving forward with an arm. Not being able to put his arms around the man himself, Lestrade chose instead to use words.

“You hurt one hair on her head and I promise you I won’t kill you, oh no. I’ll make sure you go to prison and pay every single man I put in there have their way with you and do what they like to you.” No one that knew Lestrade would doubt the conviction of this statement.

“Is that a threat?” The man said putting the blade against Molly’s jaw. Molly followed the blade, unfortunately exposing more of her neck.

“Oh no it’s a promise.” Lestrade growled. Molly for her part shivered at Lestrade’s tone, never hearing him speak in such a way. In the face of all of this madness, Molly found it oddly comforting, and inappropriately exciting.

“I’ll be having that key now Mr. Holmes, so this Miss. Hooper and I can make our way to the International Bank and get what I came for.” Molly struggled slightly, not liking the idea of going with this man in the slightest. “Ah ah! Don’t be struggling girl or else I’ll gut you as soon as I make my get-away.”

“If you touch her!” Lestrade screamed.

“You won’t be getting away.” Sherlock smiled putting the key in his pocket, and his hands behind his back. Lestrade wondered how the man could be so calm, his nerves were drawn tight, like Sherlock’s violin strings and he couldn’t take much more of this. They all heard the metal clink of the cock of a gun behind the man as it shattered the tense air that had reached a fever pitch. The man stilled feeling cold metal against his hot neck. His brow suddenly beaded with perspiration at the threat against his life. It was then that Lestrade noticed John Watson standing behind the man, gun pointed at the back of his head, the model of calm in the middle of the storm.

“Drop the knife, and release Miss. Hooper immediately or I swear on all that is holy and good in this world I will end your existence without a moment’s pause.” Watson pushed the barrel of the gun into the mans head to give his point emphasis. The man released Molly and dropped the knife on the wood floor with a clatter. Molly stood still, in shock and not realizing that this terrible horror was over. Lestrade held his arms for her but couldn’t make his legs move, afraid they would buckle with relief. “On your knees, you cretin.” John knew the man needed to be restrained. “Your cuffs, Lestrade. Give them to Sherlock.” John’s army training the only thing anyone would listen to at the moment, Lestrade gave them to Sherlock and in short order the man was subdued.

Once Lestrade heard the clinking of the cuffs closing upon the mans wrists, he knew it was over. Really over. He broke Molly’s gaze only to look to the other two gentlemen, knowing he was in no state to make the arrest properly. At John’s nod in understanding he moved back to Molly, she started walking towards him. She appeared faint, bursting into tears, she took another step and her feet buckled. Lestrade caught her before she could fall and enveloped her in his embrace. He found himself shocked by the relief that flooded him, she was safe, in his arms and safe. He thanked a god he didn’t think existed, the powers that be and looked to Watson, grateful to the man forever, Molly was sobbing - a noise he hated hearing - but she was safe. She clung to him sobbing into his neck, it was highly inappropriate, and he looked to Sherlock and Watson, who looked to the two of them fondly. He shrugged uncaring that they saw the open affections between the two of them, and made shushing noises into Molly‘s hair, knowing that he couldn’t apologize for the satisfaction he felt at finding her in his arms, drawing comfort from it. Lestrade let his nerves and anger at the man who threatened her be assuaged by her quivering form safe in his arms.

Watson, remembering the propriety of the situation, had the decency to cough breaking the focus gained upon the couple. “Sherlock would you go get the police so that they can make the proper arrest?”

“Of course, John.” Sherlock picked Lestrade’s gun off of the floor and pointed the gun into the air out of the window and emptied the barrel into the air. At people’s protest and attention from across the street and down below they started calling for police and distant whistles could be heard. Watson gave Sherlock an exasperated grimace and both Lestrade and Molly looked to Sherlock incredulously, feeling for Watson who lived with the man.

At their faces Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh relax, its quicker.” The man who was still being held at gunpoint by Watson, knew he had gotten too deep into this game. There was actually a man out in the world that made himself look sane in comparison, once he got out of prison he would spread the word to all. Never delve into crime if you weren’t prepared to mess with Sherlock Holmes, and those related to him. He still had one over on Mr. Holmes though, knowing the true identity of the person that funded his entire operation. That was until he was staring down the barrel of a gun, Lestrade’s gun that Holmes had somehow found bullets to and reloaded with a flourish, Lestrade had no intentions of stopping Holmes this time. “I will only ask you once, and I want a thorough explanation before the police arrive and haul your pathetic person away. Who would fund such gruesome crimes?”

“You were wrong when you assumed this had nothing to do with the consulting criminal, he may be dead but his influence is not. He was a friend of the French aristocracy, not in all circles but you know how funny the French can be about the company they keep. In the looser crowds, he had quite the fan base. He influenced a weak little man, a Marquis de Freer, and the man decided to do this in his memory. It was a contest. I had never met the man before in my life, the man I killed. Until one evening, I was taken by footmen to a posh side of London, I had been drinking in a pub and barely remembered most of it until the note I found in my pocket the next day. It was a game, the other man swallowed the key, and I was to find him. If he shat out the key before I got to him, he would live. If I found him, well we know what happened when I found him.” The man smiled gleefully in remembrance of the butchering he had done, bloodlust was rather his forte. “I was found before I could dig around in his corpse for the key, and once I knew where it was I went there to see if they had dug it out, it wasn’t there but I didn’t give up. One way or another I would get that key.” He looked to Sherlock’s pant pocket where it currently resided.

“And what would you do when you found it. What’s to be found in that safety deposit box?” Sherlock took the man’s attention from plotting how to get it back now. His game was over.

“Family jewels of de Freer’s. We weren’t allowed to keep it, but to bring it to him at his fancy rooms, the address was in the letter, and he said he would give us twice what it was worth in cash. It seemed so easy, and the cash was more than tempting, I’d be a free man, no longer needing my chosen profession to get me by. You were unfortunate Miss to have gotten away from me. I would have made you a rich wife. You could have been Mrs. Frances Keen.” The man sneered in her general direction, which only caused Lestrade to hold onto Molly tighter and Molly to hide into Lestrade’s chest, turning her face away with a horrified gasp. Lestrade shushed her, with unheard whispers.

“She will have one name and one name only. Mrs. Gregory Lestrade. Don’t you forget that ever.” Lestrade sneered.

“Oh that’s alright she’s far too plain for my liking.” The man laughed and Sherlock had the decency to strike the man across the face with the gun for that. It opened a gash upon the man’s face, Sherlock withheld himself from doing more with barely restrained anger. The whistles of Scotland Yard reached their peak, the noise leaking into the scene from the window, announcing that the police had arrived.

“Well, now that you’ve told us the man responsible for your deeds and I know it wasn’t Moriarty, I believe it is time you made your farewells. I’ll be taking that letter now.” Sherlock said removing the letter that no one saw poking out from the man’s jacket lapel but he had noticed. “And now John, I will need your assistance in taking out the trash.” This Sherlock concluded with a growl. The man stood on his feet and John made a move towards the stairs. “No no no John, don’t be ridiculous.” Sherlock pointed his head at the window, John smiled, almost laughed at the mad brilliance of his best friend. The man started fighting, and instead of running away from the police, screaming for them to come to his aid. But his pleas fell on deaf ears, when he realized where he was heading. “Come on, out you go.” John and Sherlock muscled the struggling man and threw him out the window and into the shrubberies outside 221.

“Oi! Sherlock why did you do that?” Lestrade said stroking Molly’s head, who shuddered and sobbed when she watched the man fall and heard the concurring crash.

“What?” Sherlock shrugged confused at his objection. “The man ran out the window before we could stop him. Right, John?” Sherlock smiled.

“Yes Sherlock. We tried. Before we could stop him, it was too late. He didn‘t want to face the police. Poor chap.” He clapped Sherlock on the back in approval, laughing. Sherlock preened at his genius. Lestrade smiled laughing as well into Molly’s hair, she only whimpered still in shock. It was a relief though to laugh in the face of almost losing her.

“Now John, I’m going to go downstairs to appease Mrs. Hudson and talk to the policemen who will certainly want an explanation and the key to the safety deposit box, see to Molly and make sure she is not seriously hurt, and then I suggest we give the couple their privacy. Diamonds, indeed. Far more trouble than they‘re worth.” Sherlock announced donning his suit jacket and then leaving the room as abruptly as he threw the man out the window.

John walked over to the couple, when he reached out to Molly she only burrowed further into Lestrade’s arms. It wasn’t that she didn’t know or like John, she did. But at this moment Lestrade knew she just couldn’t let go of him. She needed to feel security in the face of almost dying, and that was only found in his arms. Lestrade wasn’t about to let go of her either. John shook his head, and let out a knowing sigh. “I need to look at her Greg, perhaps if you moved to the chair?” Pointing to the chair, they would both be more comfortable and once he examined her and left they would be free to do what they liked, which Watson was too gentlemanly to ponder. At Lestrade’s nod, John helped him stand and lift Molly into his arms so that she didn’t fall, She gasped at suddenly being in his arms, blushing when she realized that he was strong enough to support her, feeling his strength of his arms effortlessly support her. Lestrade walked the short distance to the chair and sat down, Molly in his lap. He sat her up so that Watson could see to her. He watched, the emotions he had been fighting during the standoff coming over him suddenly in waves. If Watson didn’t conclude his check up of Molly soon and leave, he would just have to be witness to their affections. The looks Molly was giving him didn’t help. She was desperate for him, and her desperation thundered through him.

“Almost finished.” Watson smirked unseen by the both of them, he applied antiseptic and a bandage to the cut at Molly’s throat. “There all done, the rest is bruising, unfortunately there’s nothing to do for it, except a brandy tea and relaxation tomorrow morning.” Watson smiled in understanding. “Now I shall leave you both for a bit. The Yarders will probably want to talk to you Lestrade when they find out you’re here. We’ll try to keep them from coming up for as long as possible. I’m sure Sherlock will shout something that will let you know.” Watson grinned cheekily leaving the couple alone, finally. He was almost out the door when he noticed the harpoon, mouth hanging open, eyebrow raised incredulously, seeing it in both sides of the wall. “How did a harpoon get through the wall? Sherlock?” Watson called to Sherlock downstairs closing the door behind him.

Lestrade covered Molly’s mouth which broke out in a sob once the door shut. He peppered her mouth with kisses, kissing her sobs away and when he felt tears roll down her cheeks he kissed those away as well. He made shushing noises against her lips but that only made her cry harder. Her whole body quaked, Lestrade hoped it was in relief. He couldn’t contain his feelings any further. He put her head into his neck so she as free to cry. He kissed her brow and leaned back into the chair so that she was laying against chest. She pulled upon his lapels to pull herself further into him, both uncaring that she wet his shirt and tie. “I was so afraid, Molly. All I could think of was getting you safe. I couldn’t, I couldn’t think I couldn’t’ breathe. Nothing. The thought of losing you at all, well it just cut me to the quick.” Lestrade was overcome at the realization of how close he had come to losing her, and in the face of that determined that it was time to make a change. He had to stop talking and take a minute to breathe. He almost failed to notice Molly had stopped sobbing, only a whimper coming from her general direction every now and then. “Please tell me you’re alright. I couldn’t live with myself if he has harmed you in any way. I’ll kill him I swear I will.” Lestrade growled thunderously.

“No!” Molly gasped wrapping her arms around him and silencing him with a kiss, surprising him. Lestrade moaned deepening it, this time he cared not for the gentleness of the delicate kisses he had bestowed upon her before, easing her into the way he could love her with his mouth. No. That would not due with the emotions tumbling around his body. He opened her mouth under his ministrations and allowed his tongue to slowly work upon Molly’s tongue teaching her how to it could dance with his. At first her movements were timid, a surprised noise coming from her when his tongue touched hers, before tiny moans issued forth. Molly broke the kiss. “Promise me, promise me that you won’t do anything more than necessary when punishing that man! I couldn’t bare knowing that he drove you to kill. He doesn’t bare so much thinking on.” Molly begged him, both of their chests heaving.

“I promise.” Lestrade vowed before covering her mouth again to continue what she had paused. Sure, Lestrade wouldn’t kill the man, but he promised the man that he would most definitely suffer in prison, if he survived the fall from 221B.

He was about to kiss her further when they heard Sherlock and Watson trying to prevent the policemen from coming to talk to Lestrade, to no avail.

Lestrade and Molly broke apart, standing, Molly needing to hold onto Lestrade just a little bit longer, her knees still knocking. The men that came in immediately came to attention when they noticed Lestrade’s thunderous glare, and found the two of them in each others arms, the Miss. Hooper‘s mouth looking decidedly abused, her hair in disarray. It didn‘t take them more then two seconds to piece it together. Sherlock groaned unnoticed behind them all wishing that the two of them had been just a little bit more discreet. “That’ll be enough of barging around men. I’ve been here the whole time. The situation was under control.”

“But sir- the man…”

“Was a murderer, confessed to the crime he committed in front of me and made the only escape from prison he could see fit. Is he still alive?”

“Yes sir.” The police men announced in unison.

“Good. It’s the infirmary with him, and then we must retrieve the jewels he was after from the bank but first go to the address in the envelope Mr. Holmes has to arrest the man in charge of this whole scheme.” At the policemen’s confirmation of the orders they exited just as quickly as they came. Watson and Sherlock stood around looking at everything but the couple. “I’m afraid to leave you now.” Lestrade announced, looking down at her hands in his. He hated how his job seem to always come at the most inopportune moments.

“No you must go, you have to see to everything.” Molly said regrettably, leaning forward until her forehead touched his, wanting with everything in her to kiss him again.

“I’ll make my reports to the men in the cab so that I can be back here once we go to the bank. I’ll be thinking of you.” The pain in Lestrade’s features at having to leave, evidenced that he was just as pained to kiss her again as well. He gave her a questioning look, wondering if she was well enough to be left alone.

“I’m fine now. Much better actually. But then again kissing you always soothes me.” They both looked to Watson and Sherlock when Sherlock’s stifled laugh was silenced with an elbow from Watson to his ribs. At realizing they were not unobserved, Molly blushed. “You had better go.” Molly encouraged him to leave, resigned to it.

“Stay at Baker Street and I will return for you. Plenty of time to have you home for dinner. Promise. Stay here with John, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson.” He smiled kissing her mouth once more, then her forehead, before following his men in the carriage.

Molly was plied with tea which finished calming her spirits, some secret ingredient Mrs. Hudson added to the cup calling it her “soother” and listened to Sherlock and John regale Mrs. Hudson with the exciting tale of the Marquis’s deadly game and how she became a hostage. Mrs. Hudson fussed over Molly, upon seeing her and hadn’t stopped the further that Sherlock got into telling the story. It was well into the day, approaching sunset before there was a knock upon the door.

Mrs. Hudson announced it was a police cab arrived to take her home. Molly left gleefully ready to embrace Lestrade only to see one of the Yarders from before. “If you’ll allow me Miss, the cab here was sent to take you home.” She didn’t want to seem ungrateful but dearly wanted Lestrade to be there to comfort her some more before seeing her home. There were… things left unsaid.

She climbed into the cab to feel two familiar hands pull her into his lap. Lestrade quickly shushed her with a finger to her mouth. “I had the boys make it appear as if I wasn’t here so that John and Sherlock wouldn’t suspect what we might be doing in here.” Lestrade smirked. But his cheeky smile died when the air in the cab became filled with the passionate look he caught in Molly’s eyes. The word from the policeman that they were taking off was barely heard but only felt as the carriage was put into motion. With a gentle pressure to her neck and a lick of his lips, Lestrade pulled her mouth to his. He was beyond ready to continue what they had started in 221B. This time he didn’t hesitate in deepening the kiss to the point it had been before, Molly didn’t either. Now instead of teaching her how to kiss him back, their tongues fought for dominance. This caused Lestrade to groan into her mouth, Molly whimpering against his mouth in response. He slowly pulled off her lips and allowed his mouth to feast upon her neck, pulling the scarf she had tied off and opened up her coat. His other hand was quite busy driving her mad as it thumbed the side of her torso where her bodice curved underneath her bosom.

“I was so upset when you had to leave. I know you had to but-” Molly gasped when his mouth moved to the area of her chest that was revealed to him through the deep ‘v’ of the décolletage she wore. He chuckled into her skin, glad that he could render her at a loss for words so easily.

“But?” He encouraged her to finish her thought mouthing the word in a husky voice against her skin. He grinned when he felt goose bumps begin to form where he spoke into her skin. Molly knocked his hat off when her fingers moved to find purchase in his silver hair, burrowing into the soft down, and scratching much to his delight so that he wouldn’t stop what he was doing. Lestrade had no intention of doing so.

“But I was so lost without you by my side. I need you so much. I was so worried I would never see you again.” Molly let a sob fall from her mouth. Lestrade pulled back to meet her eyes that for all the love in them, seemed to question him in his love and filled with fear. She whimpered, trying not to cry. Lestrade framed her fact with his hands and cooed nonsense to her to soothe but that only made her cries worse.

“No no, my love. You’re fine, you’re right here with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. You’ll never be without me, I swear it.” Lestrade kissed her sobs away. Before he could deepen his kissed Molly pulled away.

“How?” Molly questioned. In this moment, even though they were together, he wasn’t surprised that she doubted his intentions. While he knew they were together, and he was serious as any man could be towards a lady. He wasn’t surprised she doubted him. He knew the big gaping whole in their relationship. There were things that he had to answer for, his ex-wife, the lack of presence of his family, why he kept away from her and sometimes chose work over spending time with her. And he would, but he just was glad in this moment that she was safe.

“I love you, Molly. With all my heart, believe me when I say I do. And I meant what I said to that monster back there, I promise you by this time next year, you’ll find yourself to be married to me.” Lestrade promised before closing the gap between them. Molly not putting up a fight again, smiling into the kisses. By the time they got to the Hooper Residence and the policemen announced they had arrived, Molly had found herself to almost be straddling Lestrade’s lap and he was about three seconds from dislodging her hair from its bun completely.

The policemen stood outside the cab, laughed to one another at how long it took the boss and his lady to compose themselves and make it out of the cab, but quickly made themselves scarce when Lestrade glared at them upon exiting the carriage. Molly and he walked to the front steps of her home but when he stopped at the landing she turned around in concern. He smiled to her, putting a gentle kiss, like the ones he would give her before today upon her lips. She tried to deepen it, but he pushed her away by her shoulders, she didn’t care that they were on the street. She wanted him to kiss her properly, like she knew he could. At her questioning whimper at being rebuffed he simply smiled.

“I would love to go inside with you, but if I do and we continue this, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself.” At the knowledge of his discomposure, and how close they had come in the carriage of losing control completely, the realization caused Molly to blush. Lestrade smiled his usual cheeky smile, and all was right with the world once again. “You need to look after your father and your bruises so that you’re ready for your surprise at the end of the week.” Lestrade said coming up the stairs until he was level with her and kissed her one last time. At Molly’s nod in understanding, Lestrade took her hand and kissed it, “until Friday then.” He announced, walking back to the carriage after one final heated glace over her hand.

Molly went inside after the carriage pulled away to do exactly as Lestrade instructed. She tended to her bruises, and her father, told him of the harrowing day she had, and waited in great anticipation of what Friday would bring. She looked forward to all the surprises Lestrade had in store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well wasn't that exciting?! I hope you can forgive me for the previous chapter being more Molly-centric than I had intended any of this story being. I'm now swinging the focus back to Lestrade where for the most part it will remain.
> 
> I hope you liked all that and that the fluff was fluffy enough.
> 
> Look forward to hearing what everyone thinks. Kudos and comments appreciated. Now we look to the future and what Greg has in store for Molly, more to come!
> 
> Stay Tuned! Until next time...


	7. A Joyous Day & Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has arrived for a joyful time for Lestrade and Molly, where he gets to enjoy spoiling Molly endlessly. He has the day planned completely, English weather aside... 
> 
> But what do those plans entail?
> 
> The day should run smoothly, gossiping public aside, but can Lestrade really catch such a lucky break?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In comparison this update will seem rather short, but I promise that this story will push on, and the updates will continue to follow regularly. 
> 
> Thanks goes out to my best friend, weilongfu, for allowing me to watch North & South that I've been meaning to show him while I finished this chapter today. It's not our silver fox Rupert Graves I grant you but Richard Armitage will do just as well. And the period is appropriate. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 7**

**A Joyous Day & Regrets**

 

\---

 

_Hooper Residence, Friday Morning_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

By the time the flowers Lestrade had bought Miss. Hooper began to wither it was Friday and the day dawned bright. The week after the beginning’s excitement passed with relative ease. The bruises faded, the small cut upon her neck had all but disappeared. Her father headaches eased and everything seemed right with the world again. Lestrade tried to visit Molly during this time, but arresting the Marquis for these crimes took a bit of doing, Molly had even offered to involve Mycroft, as a favor, but he doubted even Mycroft Holmes could unravel the mess of which Lestrade was caught in the middle. He had very little witnesses to the crime, and all that tied the Marquis to the note he had written was a bill at the posh hotel he stayed at with the matching room number and the note from the murderer. The Marquis had money, money talked, and for once Lestrade hoped that justice would prevail. It did when Sherlock testified. He broke down the letter and its legitimacy, from the fibers of the letter paper, to the pen and ink he identified as well know personal favorites that the Marquis was known to use. This plus other little details like fibers found upon the clothes on the murderer and the victim only to be found at a posh club they met the Marquis at and others like this were the only things to convict the man of the conspiracy he had concocted. Once he confessed he was shipped back to the French prisons, where he would be wined and dined in select rooms never to see the light of day again. It wasn’t a good punishment in Lestrade’s mind, but it would have to do. Unfortunately, Lestrade knew, the French didn’t use Madam Guillotine anymore.

But with Friday brought happier times, he was finally able to give Molly her surprise. He had planned it all planned, at least so he thought when he woke up to London doing as London does. The rain pounded against the window near his bed and he simply shrugged, when you planned for things in London, you always plan for contingencies. He spent the early morning readying himself for the day and by ten he was knocking upon the familiar door of the Hooper residence, umbrella and carriage at the ready.

Molly appeared at the door dressed and ready to leave, a charming light blush to her cheeks. “Are you ready for today, Miss. Hooper?” Lestrade inquired with a charming grin, hand extended to grasp hers and escort her to her carriage.

“Yes, yes I am.” At Molly’s delighted giggled she slid her hand daintily into his and descended the stairs. But in true Molly fashion tripped on the bottom step. A surprised ‘oh’, and a tumble and she fell, well to be honest Lestrade pulled her, into her love’s arms. “Typical Molly, everything is perfect and then I tripped being my usual clumsy self.” She gave a puff of air that was meant to have been a half-hearted chuckle but it died on the wind, as she bit her lip. Her cheeks were aflame with embarrassment, while she absentmindedly fingered the lapels of Lestrade‘s jacket, fully aware that her person was in his arms and they had yet to let go of one another. Thinking of the kisses they had shared in the cab after she had been a hostage was one of the things that allowed the week to pass quickly and without any traumatic nightmares. She had wondered if that was why he had done it, to pacify her in the face of the trauma, or if he saw her weakness as a moment to “get what he came for” so to speak. The thought had occurred to her, many thoughts had occurred to her while reminiscing but this one little insecure tendril refused to go away.

But here he was as promised, it was Friday morning and she hoped that he wasn’t here to give her the brush off. One thing she didn’t want to do was look into Lestrade’s eyes. Molly tried not to question that he was in love with her, but that didn’t stop her own insecurities from creeping up into the back of her head. Lack of fine motor skills at anything and everything except cutting up cadavers with her father was one of the first reasons she had originally decided not to seek out a husband for herself, resigning herself to spinsterhood. Little she knew that Lestrade had smiled once she was in his arms, the opportunity had presented itself nicely to have her in his arms, he could always count on Molly’s clumsy nature as ripe opportunities to have her in his arms. If she would only look at him, she would see his sly, vulpine smile when he saved her from falling. He did note her surprised expression when he kissed her forehead.

“There we can’t have you falling on one of the most exciting days ever.” Lestrade let a chuckle rumble through his chest when she finally did look up at him with the most adorable expression of delight. “Your carriage awaits, Miss Hooper. I promise to be the very modicum of a gentlemen today.” Lestrade announced to her as he regretfully let go of his mouse in favor of handing her into the carriage once he had climbed in, he faced her with a serious face, removing his bowler hat and placing it upon his chest, Molly noted with fear the look on contrition on his face. She braced herself against the impending hurt of his refusals. “I was going to ask you to forgive me for my behavior on Tuesday, manhandling you in such a fashion.” He was even more pained when he noticed her blush. Lestrade knew Molly to be of a vastly more innocent nature than his previous encounters with his ex-wife and since then had little experience with women, not being able to look upon any paramours with anything akin to favor. His profession preventing him from indulging in that gentlemen’s whim. So he wondered if Molly could forgive him for abusing her person so gladly that day, it had been to use the vulgar phrasing ‘been a while.’ When she had opened herself up to him with no remorse or second thoughts, it had fanned a manly hunger inside of him he had long suppressed, and he had only snacked. He was on his way to feasting like a man who had been dying of starvation however, and looking back, he was grateful that the carriage had arrived at her home when it did. It would take nothing but cold baths and showers from now until they were married to get through this however, especially if Molly was going to keep blushing every time their eyes met. She always looked positively delicious when she did so. The rest of their courtship was going to be torture, sweet, sweet torture. “I had thought that after you realized I had behaved in so ungentlemanly a fashion you would never want to see me again, not that I would have blamed you. My behavior was truly deplorable.” It was Lestrade’s turn to blush. Molly smiled realizing that he had the same insecurities she had during the rest of week. She could find no emotion now but relief.

“Here I thought that you wouldn’t have wanted to see me again, for I let you abuse my person that way, I was practically astride you like a wonton trollop.” She giggled at the vision she had of what they must of looked like that day. When she confessed similar feelings about her own behavior Lestrade smiled in relief, they had shared no only kisses but similar feelings as well, they really were meant for each other. He brought her closer so that she was almost in his lap again and kissed her softly with a warm hand wrapped around her face and neck.

“No, love, there’s nothing in your behavior you have to feel shameful for.” Lestrade assured, rubbing his thumb along her cheek where her blush still remained.

“And neither should you… feel shameful I mean. I let you, you know, kiss me, in that way…” Lestrade gave her a lop-sided grin when she stumbled over how to describe the way they had kissed one another.

“I wish I could feel shame for doing it, but I’ll never feel shame for the feelings that prompted it. I was so scared of losing you that I had to assure myself that you were really alright and in front of me.” Molly titled her head and raised her eyebrow at this.

“So it wasn’t just to soothe me?” She questioned with a knowing smirk.

“No it was as much for your benefit as it was mine.” Lestrade grumbled against her ear causing her to blush again with a shiver. Before they could get any closer to losing their composure again, Lestrade put some distance between them taking her fingers in his on the carriage seat. Molly just wanted to be that much closer to him. “I bet you can’t guess where I’m taking you today, Miss. Hooper.” Lestrade grinned mischievously, taking her mind away from kissing him to where they were going. She had no idea.

“Oh! Tell me!” Molly begged with a bright smile. Lestrade’s chest puffed out with love, seeing it. She may not have been the prettiest lady in the world, but she to Lestrade she was and she had a smile that could light up the whole world.

“No! You will have to guess!” He chuckled when she turned back to the streets. She hated to play guessing games. Ever since she was little, they were the hardest thing for her to do.

“I hate guessing, I never get it right.” Lestrade noticed that this was her first ever pout, as she frowned out the window. If he hadn’t known it was the fact that she had to guess that was doing it, he thought she was mad at him. He made a mental not of this face in the future, so that he wasn’t completely taken back if and when they married that she was mad at him. She did notice that they were heading to a nice part of town. “Alamack’s?” She took a guess just to be sporting, however she knew it wasn’t a good one at all.

“No! Wrong direction love, but you won’t have to guess for long, we’re almost there.” Molly shot him a questioning glance looking out the carriage at the rainy streets. She had to squint around the rain clouding her vision through the window, but that’s when she saw it. Molly gasped looking back at Lestrade, eyes sparkling with realized delight. He was spoiling Molly today, but it was he that felt well and truly spoiled, his heart was almost full to bursting.

She noticed the tall spires from far away. It was cathedral in nature but to everyone going there wasn’t fooled, this was no cathedral of religion, this was a cathedral of science. The Museum of Natural History stood tall in the English rain. Molly herself had yet to visit this wonderful place, she didn’t want to without her father but he was always too busy. It was to her delight that she would get to go here today, with Lestrade. She looked to Lestrade with excitement. “Are we really spending the whole day here?”

“Of course. Although I really must confess that I had a morning stroll through the park and a picnic planned for this morning, but the weather already conspired to change my plans.” Lestrade shrugged climbing out of the carriage and putting up his umbrella, reaching out to help her from the carriage. “You don’t mind it do you? An entire day devoted to the Cathedral of Science and strolling around its halls, lunch in the museum’s café, does that appeal to you? We could do anything you like, it is my gift to you after last Friday‘s disaster.” For the first time Molly noticed that he was quite nervous. His nervous air was suspect. She wondered what it could mean. Molly’s first instinct was to think it a sign that he was using this day as a way to say farewell. Still, everyday they were together Molly wondered if that was the day she was going to get the brush off, she wouldn’t blame him for leaving either.

“I would love anything you chose, but this is perfection itself.” Molly said looking up at the museum with an awed expression that had Lestrade letting out a sign of relief. He was glad that he had chosen right, standing beside her as she gazed up at the building. The look of wonder in her eyes was enough, he could only imagine her fascination growing as they walked through the museum itself. He coughed to gain her attention. They couldn’t stand out in the rain all day.

“Shall we?” He grinned affectionately offering his arm, escorting her to the doors of the museum. Molly took his arm gleefully. Molly noted with a surprised blush that they didn’t have to wait in line but were shown right into the museum, Lestrade told Molly in confidence once they were passed the ticket booth that the museum had his family as a benefactor, not a major one granted, but that was only because they had donated to all of the London museums. Lestrade concluded taking Molly’s wrap and rain garments from her to go to the coat check.

This left Molly to wander around the entrance, which bright and open despite the overcast sky outside. There was a glass dome upon which the rain pattered and could be observed. Around the room there were dedications and Molly’s eyes drifted to the placards thanking those that donated for their generosity. She meandered to it and scanned the brass plates, some dead, some still living, some with singular names, some family. Molly reached the bottom, the most recent donators and there was a placard that even had Greg’s name on it. Molly fingered the familiar letters forming his name etched into the brass plate with fascination. A throat was cleared behind her and Molly tore her fingers away from the name plate as if she had been burned thinking it a guard telling her not to touch it. Molly blushed seeing it was only Greg. He smiled to her, but blushed seeing what had drawn her fascination, he thought she would have been looking at the exhibits that stood near the main entrance, instead she found the one part of the museum that held his name. It was his mother’s idea when his parents had donated to the museums. For each child they had, they donated to the museums here in London and put their children’s name on the placards. He had completely forgotten about it. Now knowing that he loved someone like Molly, who found this place to be akin to an actual Cathedral for their love of all things scientific, he couldn’t help but note the irony in it. He handed her a museum guide booklet. And coughed trying to divert attention from the fact that his name was there. But Molly thought she was lucky to know someone who’s name was there.

“I was just admiring a familiar name under the list of donators.” Molly smiled with cheek. She giggled when his blush had reached the tips of his ears.

“It’s hardly sometime significant,” Lestrade said pulling her towards the dinosaur exhibits, bashful in the face of being the center of her attention, as well as the attention of the gossiping public at the museum. It wasn’t for Lestrade to be the center of attention, and at the front entrance everyone, especially the museum staff took notice of a member of the Lestrade family being there. He could easily pay the whispers no mind, being used to such attention. This day was not about him it was about treating Molly like the lady he hadn‘t been able to treat her like at the Royale.

“It isn‘t?” Molly questioned curious as to why he would deny the honor of having his name upon a placard in some place as grand as this. It only spoke to how ill-matched they were. She would have been honored to have her name in this place, Lestrade seemed to want to call attention away from it. But she supposed that it was only due to his despising of being the center of attention.

“It was well before I was born. My father had come into some extra money they wouldn’t ever have a use for and my parents decided for it to be donated to all of the museums, to be generous and every time they had a child, myself being last to be born, they would name the donation in one of the children‘s name. I was a bit of a surprise so they couldn’t do it until this place was built, they had run out of museums.” Lestrade smiled at this, looking around the museum. He couldn’t feign that he wasn’t partial to this place, fitting his attitude surprisingly better than the national gallery which held his eldest brother’s name which was grandiose and stuffy. Where as this was light and filled with valuable knowledge of science and nature. “So I was there at the dedication. So were all my siblings but they couldn’t remember it like I could.” Molly smiled at this.

“So they were all jealous of that?” Molly asked wondering if he would explain himself when his hand came up to pat affectionately and hold her hand that was on his arm. They strolled in the direction of the hall that led to the dinosaurs but Molly had little knowledge of it, Lestrade knew for as fascinating as all this was, she would much rather hear about his family.

“No,” Molly watched him chuckle to himself eyes far away with memory as they walked in a direction she knew not where, “because they all had to be at the dedication and party after as well. I was a bit of a favorite of Mother’s and she held the purse strings so they had to be there. Unfortunately, father had passed in my early twenties, before this was finished and it was in his memory, his legacy, to do the dedication as it was for me.” Molly squeezed his arm and laid her other hand on top of the one holding hers and gave that a squeeze as well. Glad for any idea as to his family and who they were. “Ah! Here we are!” Lestrade announced looking up, Molly had been so distracted she missed where they had been walking. She looked up and it was Lestrade’s turn to be fascinated but not by the gigantic Tyrannosaurus Rex in front of them but by Molly as she gasped looking up at the great big thing from beneath the wide rim of her hat. It kept going up and up and eventually she had to hold her hat to keep it from falling backwards, to which Lestrade chuckled at. She looked at him then with a blush, realizing how infantile she seemed staring at the great skeleton. “Here back up a bit.” He said, positioning her with warm hands on her waist, so that she could view the skeleton without craning her neck. She tried not to blush at feeling his hands still about her waist even more intimately when he hugged her close. His face was next to her whispering inconsequential things about the dinosaur to her to which she nodded and ‘mhm’-ed at all the right moments.

Unfortunately the rain had driven the London crowds to the museums, had it been sunny, they would have practically had the museum to themselves. However, the crowds did offer one advantage. They could stand closer and closer together as they were now gazing up at the remains of this great beast and not be questioned. If there were very little people there, they would have to have been very quiet and unable to stand next to each other at all. As it was, with the crowds a bit thick, they did garner attention from those that knew Lestrade who stared and murmured comments at the couple, looking in Molly’s direction in particular. He wasn’t bothered by it in the least, let them wonder at this lovely girl that graced Lestrade with her favors. Until two familiar ladies whose names he didn’t care to remember lingered too long upon the couple. Lestrade knew the two ladies to be aquaintances of his wife, women who were of his wife’s ilk. He puffed up with anger, but decided to have some fun with them. Let them talk to her about his happiness, he figured. He would have fun with them, at Molly’s expense as he kissed her on the neck, he smiled at her surprised gasp and she met his eyes, her brown eyes as big as saucers.

“Let’s press on shall we?” He suggested with an easy, relaxed air. He hoped to look far more at ease than he felt, in the face of their gossiping he tried not to let his chest fill with the anger and outrage he felt. He kept on having to remind himself of the reason he was there. That was balm enough to soothe.

The rest of the morning passed in just such a fashion, Lestrade made a concerted effort to ignore looks, glances, whispers, all of it. He was instead consumed by watching Molly and her reactions to all that she would see. There exhibits upon exhibits. Dinosaurs, insects, rocks that sparkled with geodes, crystals that dazzled her. He hated to interrupt her but it was time for lunch.

“Shall we lunch now before gazing upon the rest, Miss. Hooper?” Lestrade inquired, Molly loathed to leave the wondrous exhibits, but it was then that her stomach rumbles with pangs of hunger from all of the activity of walking around. Still at a loss of words she merely nodded and let Lestrade escort her to the restaurant within the museum, she noted that they didn’t have to wait for a table either but they were escorted to a private section of the place that was more richly furnished and allowed for privacy not to be found when dining with the rest of the public. She blushed, being shown to the table by the host of the restaurant especially. She looked down to her simple, inelegant clothes with a blush, feeling quite dull compared to the fancy hats and clothes of the women around her. A few of whom, sat together at a table and stared at her for that very reason turning away to comment and laugh. Lucky for the menu in front of her, Molly was allowed to hide her face. Lestrade did the same thinking her playing a game. “Why are you hiding?” Lestrade asked with a chuckle.

“I am sorry. I feel a bit out of place.” Molly blushed, not wanting to hide the reason for her discomposure. She hid further when Lestrade discreetly looked around and found the same culprits from earlier, almost finished with their lunch. At Lestrade’s thunderous brow, they knew they had been caught, and rose to leave.

“I do apologize for those ladies, don’t pay them any mind.” Lestrade assured, grabbing Molly’s hand from the menu so that she had to put the menu, obscuring her face to Lestrade and the rest of the dining room, down.

“Did you know them?” Molly questioned curious that he would rub elbows with women who seemed so devoid of kindness.

“I did at one time. But lets not think upon them, it is time for lunch! Order anything you like. This is your day, my love.” Lestrade smiled, glad that mention of food was enough to distract Molly from thinking on those so-called ladies anymore.

 

\---

 

The rest of the afternoon passed in a wonderful way, they concluded their lunch smoothly, exchanging loving glances over the meal. Lestrade for his part, couldn’t remember a better time spent during an afternoon. Molly was absolutely charming, and Lestrade let himself be gladly charmed by her quiet subtle beauty. It was often that they had to stop themselves from making a spectacle in front of the whole restaurant. Lestrade can’t remember being so incredibly frustrated having to settle for only kissing her hand. They concluded the lunch happily and Lestrade escorted Molly to the part of the museum he was anxious to show her, the section of the museum devoted to the human body. She stood before the glass panels in awe, struck by the accuracy and art of the displays covering recently gained knowledge of the human body and how it worked. Many came in, appalled and quickly left. Lestrade however stood proud as he watched her gaze in wonder at the exhibition, pointing at the pieces on display and pulling him closer to gaze upon them and Lestrade nodded smiling as she pointed out things she knew were wrong or misguided, her father recently disproving the science and old medicine that was on display. Lestrade was moved to silence as he watched her, knowing that this woman was far more intelligent than he could ever hope to be, but also that he would gladly attach himself to her for the rest of his life.

The couple had just moved into the wild animal part of the museum, Molly had turned to the taxidermy in awe at the detail of the displays. She seemed to be continually at a loss for words, they were going to discuss her fascination with the animals when a Yard whistle was heard in the distance. Many more followed, seemingly all across London and Molly looked to her with concern but Lestrade shrugged it off. It was nothing, and he had begged off for the day. Surely he wouldn’t be interrupted today of all days. The whistles became more and more persistent, and Lestrade made every effort to ignore them. Until one of them could be heard coming into the museum. Lestrade groaned, knowing that his team was the only part of the Yard that knew where to find him should such an emergency arise. It was not meant to be, for a Yard man came running through the halls inquiring as to Lestrade’s location. Lestrade grumbled looking to Molly, who only shrugged. Once again the Yard and Lestrade’s work was trying to interrupt their courtship. Molly grabbed onto Lestrade’s hand and encouraged him to seek out the man, currently shouting his name through the halls.

“Over here.” Lestrade groused once he saw the man and waved him over.

“Sir-” the man saluted standing at attention.

“Yes. What is it?” Lestrade thundered at the man.

“Riot, sir. In the market district. There’s fear of fires and panic breaking out.” The man announced, alarming the wealthy people around them who upon hearing that news made a hasty exit for their homes.

“That’s not our division. Why would we be called to see to a riot call?” Lestrade questioned, crossing his arms in frustration.

“The queen, sir, she called the entirety of Scotland Yard. Even men such as yourself who had time off sir. It is her grace’s command sir.” The Yarder shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, anxious for orders. Lestrade cursed under his breath. Seeing no way out of this. He turned away from the man back to Molly, who looked at him with something akin to regret, and it made him sore to leave her.

“I am sorry to have to leave you.” Lestrade looked down to her hands, he grasped in his. He for the first time since he became a Detective Inspector truly loathed his chosen profession and how it interfered with his life. He felt a delicate touch of Molly’s finger under his chin and looked at her face, that was smiling regretfully.

“It’s alright, these things can not be helped. You must go and do your duty.” Molly smiled. He took her hand and she squeezed it in acknowledgement. “But I will worry about you.” Molly said this time it was her turn to look down. She tried not to show him the unshed tears that filled her eyes. It just wouldn’t do to show him how worried she was about him leaving to fight the mob that stirred in the other side of town. She worried as well that it would spread to her neighborhood which was close to the district that was spoken of. Lestrade cradled her face in his hand, memorizing her features that looked to him, and wiped away a single tear that fell. He was about to kiss her, wanting to at least have that to think on before he left.

“Sir!” The policeman that came to get him impatient to be given orders.

“Alright!” Lestrade barked. The interruption did little to help his clouding, wuthering mood. “You will go send for a carriage to escort Miss. Hooper home, once she seen towards her home we will away to the Market District.” The Yarder saluted again and then made away to complete this task. “Come, love, I will see you to the carriage.” Lestrade sighed, escorting her to the coat check, grabbing their things. He helped her to put on her shall and threw on his coat, guiding her to the carriage that awaited. A token kiss and Lestrade instructed her not to stop but head straight home. “I shall come by once this is over.” Lestrade said closing the door once she was seated in the carriage.

“Be careful.” Molly begged pulling the window down.

“Always.” Lestrade smirked, he hoped in a reassuring manner, kissing her hand that reached out to him. He watched her leave, until the carriage disappeared into the traffic of other carriages heading to their posh homes to huddle away from the riot.

“Sir?” The man questioned pointing over to the Yarder coach that awaited them. Lestrade pulled out the small velvet box that had been in his lapel pocket. Opening it to gaze at the ring that he had thought would have been gracing Molly’s finger by now. “Sir!” The man called, pulling Lestrade from his reverie. He snapped the box closed, with a curse and walked towards the carriage that would take him regretfully to his duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this chapter. Hope you liked it and that you didn't mind the sort of hanging moment there at the end. Sorry... It works for the way the story shall go. I bet some of your are thinking "I KNEW IT!" the way I was setting up the chapter. Hope that you do like how I even managed to work in a "not our division" in there. But that's only because I'm completely shameless in my adoration of Greg Lestrade, heh.
> 
> Will Lestrade get his chance to propose? Will they finally be together? *shrug* keep reading my devoted readers. 
> 
> Remember loves that comments and kudos are not only welcome, but much appreciated.


	8. Riots, Pain, a Detective in Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade battles the rioting crowd, trying to create order out of chaos. Molly stands watch outside of her window. She is terrified and won't rest until she sees Lestrade safe. 
> 
> Will he be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote another chunk, so you guys are getting a big installment right now, I could have made these chapters all one chapter but for the sake of the number of chapters I broke them up, I felt it was appropriate and allows for a big update like this. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it, the riot action scene was a bit difficult to write and hope it reads well. Like the gun fight, I would say that action, battles, gun fights, they're not really my forte but I do enjoy writing them, enjoy the challenge. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 8**

**Riots, Pain, a Detective in Disguise**

 

\---

 

_The City Streets, Friday Evening_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

Molly came home to the Hooper Residence in an agitated state. The traffic in the streets had been impossible the closer she was to her part of London, the crowds and horse-drawn carriages thickening the closer they were to the riots, as people tried to escape being enveloped into impending catastrophe to the safety of their homes. While the riots were nearby, and the crowds unpredictable, the policemen driving her coach assured her that there was nothing to worry about and that the rest of the force that were already at the scene were working on containment. She had envied the men escorting her their calm demeanor in the face of the bedlam. She would mention this to Lestrade, his men deserving of such praise.

When she was dropped off, the man that had spoken calm assurances to her from the moment they left the museum leapt off the carriage as well the man driving the coach speeding away to the direction of the action. She was going to call the carriage back but he explained to her that he would be standing guard over the Hooper Residence. “You see Miss, DI Lestrade wants to see this place guarded as a precaution, there’s evidence and case files here in your father’s labs, we need to protect it. Not that anything untoward will happen here due to the riots but just as a precaution, you understand.” The man concluded standing at attention in front of her stoop with a hardened faced, determined to do his duty. Molly balked at this, not even thinking that the riot could have been a cover for something more sinister, the thought did little to ease her panicked mind.

“Of course,” Molly agreed with a quizzical brow, her face betraying her worry for his well-being, standing there by himself on the sidewalk, had the man noticed. “Would you be liking anything to eat or drink? Tea perhaps? I could have the cook bring you something.” Molly offered. It would be a while before this riot dissipated.

“No need Miss. Hooper. Just please make your way inside.” The young man smiled politely gesturing toward her front door. He seemed ill at ease with her remaining out of doors. The responsibility of her protection was left by the Detective Inspector in this young man’s hands.

It was only then she realized the eerie quiet that prevailed upon the familiar street of her neighborhood. It was the late afternoon, dusk edging into the sky, but the streetlamps had yet to be lit. The shops that line the streets further down the road were boarded up, closed signs hung haphazardly in the doors and windows. The houses’ windows across the street shuttered and quivered with curtains being tugged and shifted to reveal the faces of neighbors frightened but unable to hold back their curiosity. Molly felt shivers crawl up her spine, as she thunderous silence was only broken by the shouts and noises of madness that could be heard in the middle distance, not that far away. She laid a hand on the young policeman’s elbow and gave it a supportive squeeze knowing he would have to stand out there in the middle of this eerie silence and wait. He nodded to her, whether it was for her reassurance or thanks for her, she wasn’t entirely sure. Molly turned to go inside when he called her again. “You know Missus we were all pleased as punch down at the Yard that the Detective Inspector found you and seems ready to settle down again. He was so miserable for too long, now that he has you he’s much better. The Yard is better for it too Miss.” The Yarder smiled to her, turning back around to resume his watch.

“What is your name sir?” Molly wondered making sure she would remember it.

“Jones, ma’am, Lieutenant Freddy Jones.” The man smiled to her, turning back towards the street.

“ Thank you Lieutenant, and you’re welcome. I think?” Molly said to the air, taking one last look around the neighborhood before heading inside. The cook Bessie greeted her, much to Molly’s surprise, opening up the door and pulling Molly inside to her surprise, taking her outer things and putting them into the closet in the hall. Bessie for once, was nervous enough in the present situation to come above stairs to bustle around the upper floors. The plump and normally cheerful woman with flaming curly hair had accepted the request to complete Molly’s chores today from Lestrade himself, with equanimity, in the face of extra repayment given to her by Lestrade who told her to offer to do chores when Molly mentioned how they were to be done this day, a secret between Lestrade and herself. Molly completely unwitting of this exchange when she had thought Lestrade down in the labs talking to her father the last time he had visited with Sherlock before today. She gossiped to all those that would listen that it was her pleasure to offer the Missus Hooper a chance to finally go a-courting with the silver haired gentleman, that often worked with the Master Dr. Hooper. How the gentlemen often came with that tall queer fellow in the papers with his deerstalker hat and his doctor friend. The man was perhaps a bit older than Bessie herself would have allowed for a daughter of hers to accept intentions from but it wasn’t her place to question, she was just glad for the fodder she had for gossip.

“Oh! Miss. Molly!! Thank the Lord in heaven you’re back, your father, bless that man frightened with worry for you was still out and about, was pacing a hole in the rug on the parlor floor waiting and fretting. He be wondering what was keeping you! Have you heard of this riot? Men been seen running down the street to go see wot could come of it. Flanders, the housekeeper next door be saying that her husband has a shop in that part of town, she been worrying herself until he came home. You should have see him, such a sight! Clothes torn, big knot on his head! Had a brick thrown at him, my word! Gracious, poor lamb. I says to her ‘Gretty you had best take him to see a doctor,’ but she wouldn‘t listen, nursing him in the house right now she is-” The woman puttered and tsked around Molly as they made there way to the parlor. All of this was for the most part ignored by Molly, she was normally so patient with Bessie, more than glad to have the woman fill the spaces of their conversation with her own ramblings, shy mouse glad not to have to do so herself, but today Molly simply found it annoying. Her head was too full, swimming with worry over Lestrade, stories of the condition of other men that had been at the riot only served to agitate those worries into a state of near panic.

“Yes I knew of the riot, Bessie.” She snapped silencing the cook with a surprised huff at being interrupted, now that they were in the parlor. “Gregory himself was asked to see to putting an end to it. And he ordered a man from his own division, a Lieutenant Jones, to stand watch at our doorstep. I’ve heard a lot about it in amount of time it took me to get from the Museum of Natural History to here.” She announced in an agitated state to the parlor. Answering her father’s inquiries which were Bessie’s inquiries before he could ask them.

Her father only accepting her kiss on the cheek and squeezing of her hands before resuming his pacing. Molly knew what was plaguing him, wondering if they would be forced to leave his home and the labs, which was currently filled with his research and evidence, if the city would be evacuated. It was on her mind as well. She took a seat on the settee on the side next to her father’s chair, where Lestrade himself had sat as she folded laundry, and when she sat on it as well where it was now empty as they confessed their mutual affection. She sighed, wringing her hands. Her father grumbled breaking from his continual pacing to look out the window at the quiet street. She needed to speak to her father, express her fears.

“Bessie would go make some tea, and then come rejoin us with the tray. I have a feeling we’ll all be requiring a lot of it over the course of the evening.” Molly excused Bessie, who had nothing better to do than jabber and stare out the window. She groused at being given something to do but stalked off to the kitchens to complete her task anyway.

Once the rotund woman was out of the room her father sat down to make himself busy cleaning and stuffing his pipe with fresh tobacco leaves. “Well at least your man was good enough to leave our home with some form of protection. Good of him to think of it too. I had just gotten a delivery of a body for Holmes this morning shortly after you left.” Her father announced, nervous hands clumsy and fumbling as he lit his pipe, puffing up the parlor with thick smoke as he struggled to light it. The familiar cherry wood and vanilla smell calmed Molly enough to announce her worried thoughts to the room.

“Oh Father, I’m so afraid for him!” Molly pulled out her handkerchief to twist it around her fingers, not having anything to do with her hands. Her nerves had been slowly fraying, being pushed to the limit, since she left Lestrade at the museum. “Gregory is going into the fray of this riot. He’s been tasked with ending it, to get it under control. I don’t know if he’s safe or what’s happening. We were having such a lovely day, he was going through so much effort to make it special. I was sure he was going to propose! But something bad will happen to him, Papa, I just know it! I try not to think it, to only pray for his safety but I can‘t help but worry!” Molly half-sobbed, as she stared at her father, eyes glassy with unshed tears, looking to her father in a way he hadn‘t seen her do since she was a child with skinned knees. Her father balked at seeing her discomposure, even on the most dangerous of assignments she had always trusted in Lestrade to take care of himself. Dr. Hooper supposed it was the harsh truths of the man’s chosen profession coming to light that were really the culprit for Molly. He did so hate being right but that didn‘t make her loving this Detective Inspector any easier. He was a man of action, he was brave, far more stupid than Samuel himself would be. He ran into danger at the call to do so without a moment’s pause. Molly was feeling the terror that any wife would feel when presented with such a husband. It was new for her and she was terrified in the face of it. Still he knew his Molly could bear it if she tried. He sighed internally knowing he was going to have to play the role of supportive father for a change.

“Now now, my little dove, there’s little to nothing to be worried about. Your Detective Inspector is a good one, the best Scotland Yard has to offer. He’ll hash this out in short order and the riot will be over soon, you’ll see. Trust that the man knows what he’s doing. You have to believe that he’ll be alright, think otherwise and you might wish it upon him.” Her father warned holding her hands in his. He kissed her head before leaning back, comforting her had surprisingly comforted himself as well. He was now relaxed enough to attempt at opening up a book.

“You’re right father, I shouldn’t be so worried.” Molly announced sitting on the bench underneath the window, resting her arms on the sill. “But I do so hate to wait around and do nothing.” Molly sighed looking in the direction she had heard the shouting from before. “All I seem to do is wait around for this man.” Molly said to no one in particular, craning her head to look out the window when Scotland Yard whistles could be heard as the policemen went into battle attempting to put order into chaos.

 

\---

 

Chaos, there was no other word that Lestrade himself could come up with to describe the mayhem that lay before him upon arrival at the scene. Men, boys, even some women yelled and railed against what force he didn’t know. There were no protestors, no religious sects that moved into the neighborhood, nothing. He could see that it all convened around a central point, that made this more a more doable situation, normally when riots broke out in big enough numbers there would be chaos everywhere. That didn’t make this any less of a serious matter, Lestrade knew that people in these size of numbers had the potential to get out of control and he had been in fights and riots like that before, he had no qualms of using force to prevent that eventuality. Nor did he want anyone dying due to this and the lack of Scotland Yard to control a crowd. That certainly wouldn’t look good in the press. He spotted Yarders all over the perimeter and in the fray. They were fighting the men that fought them, punched when they were punched and ducked when assaulted by glass bottles, bricks, apples, with whatever could be used as a projectile was being thrown. Lestrade immediately started barking orders.

“You men relieve the men on the perimeter containing the riot, have them run out to call the rest of the Yard in the other districts, this is an all hands on deck riot call. You know the drill. This is serious men, if we do this right, no one will die today. We need to end this and end this now.” There horses tied to carriages that were seen bucking and rearing back high in the air, restless and frightened in the fact of objects being thrown in their general direction. There were a few times that their wild hooves narrowly missed several rioters. Lestrade had to get them under control. He pointed to the horses and the men trying to control them from the seat of the carriages immediately stepped down. “Untie these horses from the coaches and saddle them, I want men on these horses riding around to be my eyes and ears above the din. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because these horses get out of control. You three with me, we need to find the source responsible and start arresting people that are throwing things. Once we start slapping on the cuffs, people should scatter and break up this cacophony.” He realized it wasn’t the current riot that was the worst of it, it would be the resulting scatter, men fueled with adrenaline just looking for trouble. He needed to make sure there were still going to be men on patrol to make sure the public wouldn’t be hurt for now, until the Yarders themselves were relieved by the eventual Royal Guard that would be sent in, always late to the occasion. “You. Catch the men being relieved when they come back with reinforcements, tell them I said, half of them work containment here with my men, arresting unruly parties and the other half work in a three block patrol in teams of two. I don’t want this spreading into the side streets or residential areas. If it does and innocent people get hurt or assualted, on your head be it. Is that understood?” Lestrade announced before removing spare and reinforced handcuffs from the squad coaches and passing them out to the men as well as spare Billy clubs. Supplies in way of arresting men were in short supply. “If you need to, use any manner to restrain these men, rope, chains, leather straps. I don’t care just as long as it puts a stop to this we can assess damage and legalities later, incapacitate if you absolutely deem it necessary, but don’t harm these citizens severely. Now let’s get to work men.” Lestrade growled in determination. At the men’s assured and brave nods he headed into the fray with his men to do what they must.

They knew what they were doing, the crowd had begun to thin when Lestrade started making arrests, shouting above the din of the angry mob but the slapping of cuffs and arresting men that were throwing objects and breaking property only served to incense others. It was quickly turning violent, as he watched men try to overtake the other policemen that were also doing the arresting. The crowd had dissipated once reinforcements arrived. They were even told to expect the royal guard but Lestrade had little hopes of them coming in time to do more than help clean up. He had narrowly missed all matter of objects being thrown in his direction, and more than one officer was beaten or concussed by blows to the head or by unidentified flying objects. Lestrade himself would put himself in harms way to retrieve his man from the fray before allowing them to be trampled on or kicked. He even pulled youths that were there only to cause trouble but were out muscled by the adults that were throwing fists and elbows anywhere into the crowd. He pulled angry rioters aside and slapped cuffs on them as quickly as possible. But for every man arrested there seemed to be dozens, hundreds even. Lestrade felt the orange light of the evening sun in his eyes, good, maybe the dark of night would calm this unruly bunch. He didn’t fail to notice that in the middle of it all was a suspicious man, dressed in a false beard and a grubby, stained, but still expensive looking raincoat. He felt thunder inside his chest at the thought, if Sherlock was the cause of this pandemonium, he would beat the living daylights out of him, he would. The man looked to him, catching his eye, winking as he muscled a man to the ground, disappearing. The only saving grace Sherlock would have would be if this were for a case. The orange glow of the setting sun seemed to get bright and brighter.

“Sir! Detective Inspector! Look!” One of his men shouted pointing towards the orange glow, seeing that it wasn’t the setting sun but a fire blazing from one of the shops. The flames began to grow in intensity, and Lestrade worried for the other properties in the square. He had turned his back to riot and shouted orders. “Someone start throwing water on the other buildings near that fire and whistle for the fire brigade! Uh-” Lestrade was hit in the back of his head by a brick, only able to bark an order, everything turned black, the whistles of the Scotland Yard swimming in his head. The last thing that came to his mind before he was enveloped by darkness was Molly, her eyes filled with tears as he told her she would have to leave him today. He felt regret at thinking he would never see her again, and he lost consciousness.

Several men attempted to rescue the Detective Inspector but struggled to get to him through the mass of bodies and chaos. One rioter unbeknownst to the policemen, rolled his eyes when he saw Lestrade concussed on the floor narrowly being missed by trampling feet and hooves. He watched the man he was tussling with crawl through the riot to make a run for his escape. It was most definitely Sherlock in disguise who had instigated the start of this riot to prevent the man from easily getting away that was doing just that. The police took little note of how he was not involved in the riot at all, and weaved and bobbed his way through the bedlam to come to his colleague and friend’s rescue. Just when a clash of thunder appeared in the sky and rain began to come down upon the massive crowd in sheets. By the time Sherlock got to him, both men were soaked through, and as with all London rains, it was a cold hard rain.

Lestrade groaned as he felt a mysterious force pull him by his shoulders. Sherlock rolled his eyes when he heard the man mutter Molly’s name, the only thought on his mind. He looked down at Lestrade’s face, seeing it contort with pain as he tried to surface but struggled to come to consciousness. He slapped Lestrade’s face until finally the man opened his eyes.

“Lestrade!” Sherlock shouted firmly to command Lestrade to pay attention before he could fade back into the black. “Lestrade can you hear me?” Sherlock was tempted to reveal himself, but knew that he needed to make chase for the man he had been trying to track down and that he still needed to maintain his anonymity.

“Indeed.” Lestrade groaned sitting up, shaking his head, trying to clear it. He looked around and then up seeing the rain pouring over the riot, his men, and soaking everything including himself. He stood up just in time to see the fire brigade come for the fire that was also being put out by the rain. The dark smoke billowing into the sky. He was in for a long night. “Thank you Sher-” Lestrade tried to thank the man but he put his fingers to his lips, winking again before making a hasty exit. “I want an explanation later you!!” Lestrade shouted as the man weaved back to the other side of the crowd before running away. The only response that Lestrade got was a wave.

The riot continued well into the night and the early morning. The rains didn’t stop either, but came in waves of intensity, other fires were started and put out, Lestrade and his men worked tirelessly. The fighting seemed to be never ending, there weren’t enough men, or enough supplies to make arrests, they were simply orchestrating and controlling the chaos as it bubbled and boiled. Just when Lestrade felt he was about to collapse from exhaustion, the Royal Guard came, most of the rioters scattered in the face of being killed or injured by the guardsmen who would not hesitate to protect London in the face of hurting some common rabble rousers. Lestrade and his men arrested the stragglers and thus the riot ended. Lestrade and his men cleaned up the square, threw the arrested men into one carriage, rioters that were injured went in another. The Royal Guards relieved them all, telling them that the rest of the riot would be handled in a more official capacity, Lestrade had to contain himself from punching the man who spoke to him in the face. Scotland Yard had done all the work and once again, the Royal Guard swooped in and claimed all the credit. He was just glad to be told he could leave and go home.

As the dawn came and the rain cleared, his men left toward their prospective homes glad to get some much needed rest, some men needed supporting for they were for the better part almost collapsing in the streets in exhaustion. Lestrade looked to the sun rising in the sky feeling the soreness and exhaustion settling into his bones. He rotated his shoulders and immediately regretted the action with a tired groan as guards moved around him putting broken property and debris into piles to assess the damage in a clinical manner. “You can go now, sir.” A redcoat announced to him, he was just standing there, he nodded dumbly understanding but unable to move and unable to even form words. His vision swam, and he realized that probably wasn’t a good sign. There was nothing good about the way he felt. His head was throbbing and he felt sick, covered in his wet attire. He picked up his feet and slowly made his way towards the Hooper Residence, knowing that he needed to be near Molly.

 

\---

 

Molly stood vigil well into the night, her father and Bessie napped in his chair and on the settee long giving up to exhaustion, the anxiety of the day taking its toll. Molly could only lay her head in her arms and rest fitfully, stirred at every noise and every light she saw. She couldn’t sleep once she was woken up by the rain as it pattered against the window pane, she produced an umbrella for the officer who was grateful and that was when Molly worried the most knowing Lestrade had none. She could only think of Lestrade wet and struggling to contain the riot. Eventually she stirred her father and Bessie when she saw lights in the distance that bespoke of a raging flame. She tried to go outside to watch the flames but was halted by the man at her door demanding she returned inside. She watched from the window as the smoke billowed into the sky until more flames rose and were extinguished. Once that excitement passed her father and Bessie returned to their resting places to sleep again. It wasn’t until the dawn came that she noticed many people leaving the vicinity of the riot, policemen, merchants, the streets peppered with men that looked wet and exhausted.

They eventually thinned and still Molly waited. The policeman called to a figure walking down the street in the distance and she looked seeing that it was indeed Lestrade, whose head hung. Molly could only feel relief. He looked exhausted and sore but other than that he was fine. Lestrade continued to walk, unseeing until he came to her block, he could see her house and looked to see her in the window smiling at her visage. Molly watched him from the window, her hand on the glass, waiting for him to finally meet her gaze, needing this small assurance that he was indeed fine, in manner of speaking. Once Lestrade saw the man he had left at Molly’s doorstep Lestrade stopped walking, as if he could walk no further, and when Molly finally caught his eye, his eyes grew heavy, he could no longer hold himself up and he collapsed in the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the riot scene. Wasn't it exciting?! Poor Lestrade! 
> 
> Thank you to all those that have read and kept up with this story so far and cornishrexmomma and mellie I have yet to hear from you, get in contact with me so I can bestow upon you your surprises for being my first commenters!! I know you'll like it! 
> 
> To the rest of you, I'm encroaching on chapter 10, the next person that posts a comment before I get past chapter 10 will get a special something from me your devoted author!
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated. Let me know that you love me. I do love you so, dear readers.


	9. The Riot's Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Lestrade recover? Can Molly nurse him back to health? What is John Watson's prognosis?
> 
> Lestrade sleeps and sleeps but will he wake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rolling right along with this chapter, hope you all don't mind that these are shorter and that I'm posting them in one big chunk. I will be taking my time with the next bits of the story as I think they will be getting to the crux of the inner workings of Lestrade. His heart is on the mend but on the mend from what? I want to answer that soon, before all the fluff eats up the angst to oblivion. I just felt I couldn't explain it until I really got the couple seriously together.
> 
> That's when these things really come to light after all, once these things really get serious and there's no exit. 
> 
> Well with that, its on with the show!
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 9**

**The Riot's Aftermath**

 

\---

 

_Hooper Residence, Saturday Dawn_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

“Papa!!” Molly called to the room, running out of the house. Dr. Hooper stirred with a noise. She called for him from the hallway, and he noticed just in time that his daughter was running out into the street in nothing but a nightgown, both she and he had changed out of their clothes to be comfortable incase they fell asleep in the living room. Bessie had changed as well, and was sound asleep in the settee, completely ignorant to the emergency.

“Coming, Molly dear!” Dr. Hooper called, stuffing his feet into his slippers. He came out and saw Molly kneeling on the wet pavement, shaking Lestrade who didn’t stir at being shook. She called to him and he only moaned in pain. The policeman that had stood in front of their stoop all night, looking tired himself but not as bad as this, looked to Dr. Hooper for instruction.

“Father, what is wrong with him?” Molly fussed over Lestrade’s prone form. Her father did notice that even though the man was unconscious his brow was still knit in pain. There were no outward signs of anything but over-exhaustion but Dr. Hooper couldn’t be sure.

“I know no more than you do dear. We must get him inside and get him out of these wet clothes. Come, man, give us a hand.” Dr. Hooper and the policeman lifted Lestrade’s prone form into the house, stumbling every so often, he groaned in pain when they did but he never woke up, his body being twice as heavy as it should have been because of the wet clothes that also made his body hard to grip.

“Bring him into my bedroom, Papa! I shall go prepare it with Bessie.” Molly ordered running into the house while the two men struggled with their load. Before the man could protest she was on her mission, this left the two men alone.

“Don’t worry sir, I’m sure the Detective Inspector will be fine. He is just tired. I talked to some friends as they passed and they had a rough time of it, they’re all very tired, some Yarders were even injured and are far worse off than the Detective Inspector here.” The man smiled to Samuel who only could give him a skeptical brow in return, unbelieving in the face of the evidence before him. He could feel the heat of fever radiating from Lestrade that spoke of fever. As they climbed the stairs, which was by far the hardest part, they laid him on the settee in the living room.

Molly came rushing down from her room, seeing that they paused in the living room, both men catching their breath. “What’s keeping you? We must get him dry and in a hurry, time is of the essence Father!” Molly went back upstairs and both men sighed to each other lifting the man back into their arms. Bessie came down and fussed over him following them up, helping before they dropped him on the stairs. Finally they reached Molly’s bedroom which in the short time that it took Dr. Hooper and the Lieutenant to move him from outside on the street to the living room was prepared to be a sick room. Molly motioned to the bed and once the men laid Lestrade on the bed moved to take the wet clothes off of him herself. Her father stopped her pushing her physically away from the bed towards the doorway.

“You will not be in the room while we strip him of these wet clothes Molly.” He watched her open her mouth to protest and silenced it with an angry look. She was stalling with her antics. “Absolutely not my dear, I must put my foot down. I will send for you as soon as he settled and examined.” Dr. Hooper pushed her towards the stairs and closed the door before Molly could turn around and move passed him. She put her hand to the door regretfully, hearing his voice stirring in the room, asking for her. Her head hung as she moved down to the living room to nervously wait for her father to finish helping him.

 

 

\---

 

Within the sick room Lestrade did indeed stir as the men pulled off the wet, sticky clothes from his prone form and Bessie laid them over the grate that sat before the fire, wringing out the clothes to instigate them into drying. She poked the flames inside the fireplace, warming the room. Lestrade could smell Molly’s perfume in the room but through the fever had no idea where he physically was other than he must have finally reached the Hooper Residence, but didn’t know why he was so comfortable.

“Lestrade, its Samuel, can you hear me?” Dr. Hooper questioned lifting Lestrade’s head to look into his eyes, they made an attempt to focus but he noticed were struggling to do so. He sat the man up so that he could get a closer look at him and pull his shirt over his head. When he did so, the change in perspective seemed to bother Lestrade who was being held upright by the Lieutenant, for the man reached for his head to touch it grimacing in pain, Dr. Hooper followed his movement gently probing the Inspector’s head with his fingertips, feeling a knot there. He shook his head, knowing that the fever, plus this potential concussion as well as the exhaustion from being at the riot didn’t paint a pretty picture for the man’s health. This probing stirred Lestrade further waking him up. Dr. Hooper watched him look around the room seeing that he was no longer on the street as he had thought but seemed to be in Molly’s bedroom. “How-?” He questioned, squinting in pain.

“The Dr. Hooper and I carried you in sir,” Lieutenant Jones answering for the Doctor, as they pulled a dressing gown over Lestrade’s form, then removing his pants off to protect the man’s modesty. He groaned at hearing that, realizing that Molly had probably watched him collapse onto the pavement outside. At thinking of Molly he remembered the earlier part of the day and what he had planned to do.

“My coat.” He questioned looking for his wet clothes.

“It’s being dried by the fire, sir.” The Lieutenant explained helping Dr. Hooper lay Lestrade back into the bed covering him with the comforter. Lestrade was both hot and shivering, glad to burrow down into the warm comfort the downy bed provided. They tried to get him to rest but he was uneasy.

“Please, my coat. Give it here, Freddy. Please.” Lestrade demanded with a growl. He was too tired to object to the babying treatment of his person, but still it made him very short-tempered. The Lieutenant went over and handed the coat to him, ready to take it back over to the fire once Lestrade was done with it. Lestrade patted the pockets of it and sighed in relief when he pulled out the box that was thankfully still in his coat pocket. He wouldn’t have put it past the commoners at the riot to have pick pocketed the ring box from his person. Everyone in the room had been watching him all gasped at realizing what the box was and what his intentions were. Dr. Hooper cleared his throat to break the tension in the room.

“I believe a brandy tea is in order for the Detective Inspector, Bessie, see to it and a nice broth for the man. Lieutenant go tell Molly that Lestrade is okay and to wait until Bessie brings her the tray, then if you please go to Baker Street and tell Dr. Watson that it would be advisable for him to come examine Lestrade himself, I know about the dead, the living are not my area.” Dr. Hooper said pushing the two out of the room.

“Sir. I know it has only been a short time I’ve been courting her, but I love Molly very much and I would like ask your permission to marry her.” Lestrade looked up to the man as he pushed him back against the pillows. Lestrade fought to keep conscious waiting to hear a response. “Please. It would be my honor to take care of the both of you.” Lestrade handed Dr. Hooper the box that held the ring, encouraging the older man to gauge the quality of it. He took the box and opened it, and Lestrade watched was the man’s eyes seemed to pop out of his head. Apparently the ring was of some value. “It was my mother’s.” Lestrade smiled in memory, having seen the ring upon his mother’s finger and looked forward to it being upon Molly’s finger. Dr. Hooper met Lestrade’s gaze and realized he was staring at the ring a long while. It only hit him in that moment what a wealthy man Lestrade actually was, he cleared his throat to try to appear the spitting image of nonchalance that he didn’t feel.

“Well my answer rests with my daughter, I shall leave the choice up to her whether or not to accept you, I can’t make it for her. But you have my permission to inquire after her. If she accepts you, well you know I can not refuse her anything she asks.” He chuckled handing the ring back to Lestrade, putting the ring back in its safe place for now. Dr. Hooper put the coat upon the chair by the fire. Lestrade looked uncertain in the way her father so easily gave his permission.

“I shall provide for her, you know.” Lestrade looked uncertain, wondering what game the Doctor was playing with him.

“Of that I have no doubt.” The doctor patted the man’s arm just as Molly entered the room. “Ah! There you are my dear girl. I shall leave you to your charge, now. Did the Lieutenant go talk to Dr. Watson like I asked?”

“Yes father, he came back rather quickly. Apparently Dr. Watson was in the area and caught him on the way from Baker Street. He’s been given the task of seeing to the men from the riot, since he is a former army doctor, but he won’t be able to come until the evening or even early morning.” Molly announced looking to Lestrade who had fallen back asleep.

“Well, we’ll just have to keep him comfortable until Watson can see him. See if you can encourage him to eat and out compresses on his head to try and tempt that fever into breaking. Other than that bump on his and a little rest I think the man will be fine.” Dr. Hooper smiled patting his daughters shoulder encouragingly before taking his leave. He needed some sleep himself, feeling the lack of proper sleep the night before catching up with him.

Molly for her part stood vigil over Lestrade’s form well into the day and into the night. She barely moved from the chair by his bedside, Bessie brought her small meals, and tried to get her to take tea down in the parlor to no avail. She simply couldn’t leave Lestrade’s side. He woke several times, briefly, to take drink and to eat what little he could, the exhaustion he felt and the soreness in his body was too much for him to have an appetite. He fought the exhaustion that begged him to sleep so that he could see Molly, even when she tried to get him to sleep more. But his body eventually won the fight, often he slept without being witting of doing it. Molly worried that he took so little sustenance, but she knew it was better for him to sleep. But she did worry over his concussion, and how much sleep he required. The only one who would know what to do would be Watson himself, both her and her father had little experience with first aid and the medicine of the living, but she didn‘t expect him to show at all during the day. Apparently there were too many men needing surgery and were worse off than Lestrade. After he took some brandy tea, Lestrade didn’t seem to be in so much pain as he was before, she had asked how he felt whenever he woke. He seemed to be doing better the more he slept. She put compresses upon his forehead and neck throughout the day. His fever remained throughout the day but was no worse but seemed to refuse to break until the night. Every time she laid compresses upon his brow he would lean his head towards her touch unconsciously in his sleep, much to her amusement, her heart swelling in affection. That was much to her relief when the fever finally broke, when he was no longer warm to the touch, and when it finally did and his brow no longer seemed to knit in pain. Molly for her part, could feel nothing but relief and for the first time since Friday afternoon breathed easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, I'm just turning them out so that I can get to the cute, Lestrade-centric bits that are really coming up. They will be coming. Swear it. Although I think most of you have been satisfied with the story so far. 
> 
> O comments and kudos, shall I be blessed with thee? Will my readers look upon mine writings with favor?
> 
> [I make no apologies for that, I'm watching Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing and watched the Hollow Crown before that. I seem to be in a Shakespearean way... so aging my brain to Victorian was a bit hard in these last couple chapters, you understand.]


	10. Relief: the Future Dawns Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watson arrives finally and diagnoses his patient, who is for all intents and purposes fine. Molly is relieved. 
> 
> The morning dawns bright, but Lestrade notices something soft in his arms that is to his delight. 
> 
> Love can't be stifled but most definitely caught in the act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the big post-a-thon definitely don't think I will post so much together in the future. People seem to only post once a week if they post that much but like I said I really think I should have put these all together into one chapter, but I liked breaking them up. You all get to read this big update in one shot like taking time to read a book on the train to work. But I hope you'll forgive me if it takes me a bit to post the next couple of chapters. I will be in the process of moving. 
> 
> Yes I am moving (sob) from my childhood home in the NY area of NJ to the country, and writing at the same time. Which is why I'm trying to make sure that I post as much as possible before I get to into the move just in case I'm trapped with no way of posting, or even worse, get so wrapped up in packing and unpacking that I have no time to write. *shudder*
> 
> Have faith, even in the worst of days, I still write. It is really sometimes my only salvation. Even if a hurricane blows me away, I will still claw my way to somewhere so that I am able to post this story for you all. (I live in NJ and am moving to PA, there's nothing to worry about.) Now you will all be able to find me, please come find me.
> 
> Please also let me know if these chapters felt rushed, I will either add to them or go back and look them over to see if there's more that I could add. I didn't want to keep Lestrade ill and bedridden for long. And it was just exhaustion, with a bit of fever and a bump on the head, nothing too serious. If he has a spot of a cold because of the rain, I wouldn't be surprised but he's a strong tough guy, so I said he was fine. I wouldn't be but he's got a better immune system and stamina than I do. 
> 
> Wow that was a bunch of babbling lets get on with it!!! Jeez... even I can't stand me, glad you people put up with me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 10**

**Relief: the Future Dawns Bright**

 

\---

 

_Hooper Residence, Sunday Dawn_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

Watson finally arrived in the early morning, before dawn, and looked exhausted but glad to finally see Lestrade, Lestrade barely stirred during the Doctor’s examination and Watson didn’t want to wake him. He spent a long time feeling the contusion on the back of Lestrade’s head and Molly watched his brow come together in concern. Watson didn’t bind Lestrade’s head but simply laid him back down. Molly escorted him to the door and he announced that Lestrade seemed to be fine for the most part, to keep doing what they had already done for him and that he would return to check on that contusion again in the course of the morning. If Lestrade showed any sign of sickness due to the concussion she was to send for him immediately. With that Watson took his leave and Molly finally felt at ease, knowing he would just need some much needed rest.

That was when Molly felt the tiredness of the last two days creep up behind her and she let out a great yawn. If she only laid beside him for a little while to get some rest, she could wake before anyone else would be suspecting of her sharing a bed with Greg. She really didn’t care what everyone else thought at the moment, she would just like to lay down and get some sleep. And so she did, laying next to Lestrade’s prone form as gently as she could so that she wouldn’t be noticed. Once Molly was comfortable and knew Lestrade wouldn’t stir she allowed sleep to finally tug at her eyes and have its way, falling to a deep, dreamless sleep. Lestrade wasn’t having that even in his sleep, he pulled Molly towards him, and turned to face her. They were cuddled as close as one could get to another person and both slept with serene smiles upon their faces.

 

\---

 

It was well into the next morning before Watson could make a better appearance. He had returned to Baker Street only for a short rest, to take breakfast and a change his clothes before setting out to see Lestrade, the Lieutenant from the day before that had halted him to tell him of the Detective Inspector’s need of him, stating Lestrade’s case showed up first thing in the morning to escort the doctor to the Hooper residence himself. He was worried for his boss, and hadn’t heard from the Hoopers about the man’s condition. He also wanted to be the one to inform his surperior that the Queen herself was handing out commendations to the Yard for their word and was giving the men from the force who had attended to the riot and its end a week’s vacation, bringing in troops and guards to oversea the city’s protection until the men came back to work. Watson was worried about the man, he had looked bad when he had seen Lestrade in the early morning and worried about his condition now that he had slept a good while. His condition seemed weak but hopeful and with Molly as his caretaker John knew that Lestrade would be for the most part fine, he was just worried about the contusion at the back of Lestrade’s head and wanted to check how it looked during the course of the morning. Watson let the young man and Sherlock reluctantly follow him, he hoped that this would be a simple matter as they repaired for the Hooper Residence.

 

\---

 

Lestrade felt the morning sun catch the periphery of his vision, waking him from the pleasant dreams of Molly he was having. He wondered why he could feel her in such wonderful detail, and why it felt as if there was nothing to hinder him behind her clothes like the usual trappings women wore. He felt around with his hands and felt his one arm weighed down by something warm, curvaceous, and luscious. It was with this realization that the final edges of his dream faded awake as he opened his eyes one at a time, check to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming at all. He wasn’t. In his arms Molly laid, still asleep her head on her on the pillow next to his head. He smiled lovingly towards her and turned his body to snuggle closer to her, her arms pulled him closer as well instinctively. He watched her sleep, fascinated by seeing this intimate side of her he hadn’t yet the chance to see. He reached out to gently push the hair out of her face and lovingly caressed a fingertip down the nymph-like arch of her nose. He had to contain his laughter which would have shook the bed and woken her up as her nose wrinkled in reaction to being caressed. She was incredibly darling and peaceful in her sleep, and Lestrade knew that his heart was finally in the right place.

He watched the sun creep into the sky and finally alight upon her features over his shoulder, he watched her stir, loving every moment of watching her face in sleep and what expressions flitted across it as she woke up. Finally Molly opened her eyes and realized that she was alone in a room, with Lestrade, and that she forgot to wake herself before Lestrade himself woke up, he indeed was awake well before she was and was still staring at him as she looked around the room in frightened realization at the situation they were in together, in bed.

“Good morning.” Lestrade smiled at her, chuckling to himself at her shocked face.

“Morning.” Molly looked to him with uncertainty, glad at least that she had half a mind to put on a simple house dress the day before and now was glad that she didn’t lie next to Lestrade in only her night gown. Still she was without the trappings of dress like her corset and petticoats that would give her some form of modesty from his hands that were currently roaming over her form, feeling the warmth of her curves that he could feel through the diaphanous material she was wearing. The strength of his touch against her skin sent shivers through her, only causing her to pull him closer, to which he was much obliged. “How are you feeling?” She looked him over feeling his forehead, and stroking his jaw, which he leaned into, looking for signs that he seemed to feel as well as was indicating by his energetic advances on her person.

“Much better.” He smiled confidently, puffing out his chest. “Bit of rest was all that I needed!” He announced wagging his eyebrows confidently.

“Are you hungry?” Molly tried to divert attention away from what he wanted of her, and to something else that could make her useful so she might have an excuse to run out of the bed and preserve her modesty.

“I am hungry, but not for food.” Lestrade growled before covering her mouth with his, not allowing her to stall any more. He groaned further when she whimpered in surprise and deepened the kiss. Lestrade tried to control himself when he felt Molly’s leg instinctively hitch up onto his hip in a most provocative fashion. He moved to feast upon her neck and skin that the dress exposed to him. His hand crept to the back of her thigh, his fingertips digging into the flesh of it causing Molly to moan to him unable to form words, feeling everything all at once and he bit down into her neck trying his damnedest not to leave a mark but she was just so delicious. He was a only a mortal man and a man that was starved and thirsty after a long trudge through a desert. She was simply divine, an oasis.

It was then they heard an ‘ahem’ from the doorway and looked up from their spot in the middle of Molly’s bed to look to the door. In the doorway stood Dr. Watson and Lieutenant Jones who both looked to them and looked to elsewhere in the room, their cheeks rosy with embarrassed blushes. Sherlock smiled and rolled his eyes, not surprised at finding the couple in the position they were in, but once again, wished that they had known to be more discreet. Finding normal people's lack of observation simply appalling. Dr. Hooper looked to the lovers his hands on his hips in appalled outrage. In his own home, the man was manhandling his daughter under his own roof.

The couple immediate broke apart and sat up at the same time. “I can explain!” They said in unison and looked to each other with smiles before looking to the men again, the smiles dying on their faces, both turning red in the face at being caught in an embrace. Lestrade gulped, he was most definitely in trouble this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww! Adorable!!! I loved that! :D Even that made me smile while I was writing it. 
> 
> I loved that Lestrade just said what he wanted and took it. Yum. Hope you all like that as well. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos oh where can you be? I'll be looking for you.


	11. Our Silver Fox Declares His Love for a Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were caught so Lestrade has no choice...
> 
> ...but to propose!! Congratulations to the lovely couple, all around!!
> 
> Sherlock is... completely un-surprised. It was completely obvious. John is concerned about the newly engaged Lestrade's health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg what happened?? I said I was going to be moving and then I somehow manage to bang out another chapter to this story? What? But that's why you all love me! 
> 
> Hope this makes your Monday more tolerable. I know finding updates to my stories and vlogs on youtube always help make the day just slightly more tolerable. 
> 
> Even worked in a "not good?" "bit not good, yeah" into this chapter. I'm shamelessly ripping from the show and sticking the references into the chapters and you love it.
> 
> Thanks for reading thus far. Feels for our silver fox are incoming, I promise!
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 11**

**Our Silver Fox Declares His Love for a Mouse**

 

\---

 

_Hooper Residence, Sunday Morning_

_Early Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

“Well you’ll have to marry her now, boy!” Samuel groused entering the room. He sat down in the chair next to the sick bed with a chuckle, he couldn’t stay mad at the man for long. His Molly mouse looked like her mother, all little nymph-like nose and saucer brown eyes, upon her birth Samuel knew he‘d never be able to refuse this little thing anything she wanted. Lucky for him she asked for very little. He reflected upon his own courtship and it had been hard for even him to keep his hands off his wife, he remembered. Molly hadn’t look opposed to the embrace either, so she was just as much at fault, and she had been so worried. He would just chalk the whole situation up to their feelings for each other being stretched taut during the riots and this had been the release. He was just glad he had caught them before something complete untoward had taken place. He would hate to take a Scotland yard Detective Inspector up on a duel at gun point. He could never do that. He looked to his daughter realizing that the statement he just said. Molly who had moved to get off the bad stopped to look at her father perched on the edge of it.

“What?” She questioned. The room was suddenly so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Molly looked back to Lestrade who took her hand in his. She turned back towards him, her brows coming together in a question. Time seemed to slow down to almost nothing.

“John would you please hand me my coat, its over there.” Lestrade looked to his two friends. Sherlock who smiled in completely understanding as to what was going on. Dr. Watson did as he was bidded, coming to stand next to Molly’s father and handed Lestrade’s coat to him. “This wasn’t how I had planned doing this, sir, but you leave me no choice.” He chuckled catching eyes with his future father-in-law. The man simply shrugged in response as if to say ‘oh well its your fault for mauling my daughter in her bed’ and waved dismissively to the couple as if to say ‘well get on with it.’ No one would comment that the man eyes were decidedly wet in that moment and he had been unable to speak.

Lestrade pulled the ring box out from where he had left it. The whole room took a collective breath, Sherlock merely let out a sarcastic ‘oh god’ under his breath when it finally dawned on the rest of the audience what was finally taking place. Watson elbowed him in the ribs. He would not ruin this moment for the couple or everyone else in the room. Lestrade opened up the ring box took out the ring that had been nestled inside and turned to face Molly, who now kneeled upon the bed facing Lestrade, wondering if he’d care to explain himself and if everyone would explain what exactly was going on. She still was completely unwitting of what was taking place. It was only when she saw the ring that it dawned on her. It was a beautiful silver and rose gold concoction, in the center a breath-taxingly large rose cut diamond, surrounded it was a wreath of alternating saphires and pearls, all of this stood cradled by an interwoven ivy design in silver with tiny butterflies in rose gold. Molly could only gasp and put her other hand to her chest, willing herself to take a breath. She looked up to meet Lestrade’s gaze his features looked decidedly nervous but his gaze was out-pouring with the love that he felt for her.

“Molly I know there is very little said between us to which I have much to answer for, but I do know one thing that is true, and this is that I am in love with you, with all that I am. I never thought there was a way to love a person the way that I love you. Would you do me the honor of consenting to be my wife? Please say yes.”

“Oh good. Molly has reduced Lestrade into begging for her betrothal.” Sherlock quipped causing the entire room to glare at him. “Not good?” Sherlock questioned John. He had thought it was rather funny.

“Bit not good, yeah.” Whispered Dr. Watson, who was still waiting for Molly to give the poor Detective Inspector and answer. Molly had looked away from Lestrade, a blush on her cheeks. Almost as if she were avoiding having to give an answer. Once she looked up they realized it was because she couldn’t stop the tears that were filling her vision as several spilled over and down her cheeks. She showed him a brilliant if watery smile to which he returned. She spoke so softly that they almost didn’t hear her.

“Yes, Greg. Yes!” Molly said before hiding her face in his shoulder. The rest of the room shouted hooray. Sherlock himself shouting a derisive “Finally!” At Watson’s objection he couldn’t hold back his opinions of how they all had “finally waited long enough” and “maybe Lestrade will be a little less distracted on cases now.” He went on to say that “he knew exactly what was going to happen this morning which is why he came along” and stated all the facts why when Dr. Watson had questioned him. This was ignored however when Lestrade slid the ring onto Molly’s finger and she looked down to it and then into Lestrade’s eyes before covering his mouth in a surprise kiss. Lestrade opened his eyes in surprise before closing them in absolute relief and bliss. They were going to be married, and he couldn’t be happier. They were forced to pull away when the room shouted their ‘hoor-ah’s and hoorays’ at watching them celebrate the proposal.

“Well I believe this calls for some champagne!” Announced Dr. Hooper, who could be seen wiping at his eye. He came around the room to give his daughter a kiss on her temple before shaking the man’s hand and quickly exited the room shouting Bessie’s name. They could all hear his deliver the news and Bessie herself was loudly delighted at the news ready to tell the entire neighborhood the delightful news.

The rest of the room passed about their own congratulations. First Sherlock who said that they should all move to the parlor and if Greg was up to it, it would be good to get him moving around quickly left the room after bestowing Molly with a kiss on the cheek. She smiled up at him with affection, not used to his displays of affection but glad for it. The young Lieutenant Jones that had been in the room offered his hearty and overzealous congrats to his boss, glad to have been in the room to witness it and congratulated the future Mrs. Lestrade on being the sweetest and most darling new bride. Lestrade’s ‘ahem’ broke the man’s concentration on his task and he left the room to join everyone else in the parlor. Once the room was empty John congratulated them both with a firm handshake and a kiss on the cheek. He looked to them regretfully.

“I hate to split up the happy couple, but I am a doctor. I came here this morning to give this lucky man a check up.” John was fully in Dr. Watson mode, taking the bag he brought from the floor and putting it upon the bed. Molly seemed awfully reluctant to leave not that John could blame her for being so. “Molly why don’t you join the others, this won’t take very long and we’ll be down in a moment.

“Alright.” Molly sighed, leaning down to kiss Greg one last time. “I shall miss you. That is silly to say but I will.” Molly blushed, standing from the bed she stopped from leaving when Lestrade tugged on her hand, he reached down and kissed it before letting go.

“I shall miss you too.” He announced to Molly as she walked towards the door. “There’s a dressing gown for him, John, on the chair next to you.” Molly announced to Watson’s smiling nod as she left the room and descended the stairs to the parlor.

“Well now lets have a look at the back of that noggin of yours.” Dr. Watson said getting Lestrade to sit at the edge of the bed. Lestrade was so full of happiness nothing could ruin his day today. “How are you feeling today?” Dr. Watson questioned taking his time to look him over thoroughly.

“Fit as a fiddle!” Lestrade announced looking up at the doctor.

“Really?” Watson questioned with a knowing eyebrow.

“Well maybe a very minor headache. But I don’t even notice it.” Lestrade said puffing out his chest with pride. “Working with the force you have your fair share of headaches. This is like having a small cold.” Lestrade said, realizing for the first time that he did sound slightly stuffy.

“You are right about the cold, it appears you have a bit of a good old fashion case of the sniffles. Now stand up, put your arms out and follow my finger.” Watson instructed testing for a concussion, it was a new examination he had read in a recent medical journal. Seeing no reaction he let out a small sigh of relief, glad that the blow to head he had suffered was very minor, pushing on the man’s shoulders so that he would sit back down.

“How many of my men have you seen?” Lestrade questioned.

“Oh a fair few and I’ve heard about the condition of the rest. I had to do surgery on a few.” Watson said, clinical as ever in the face of all the surgery he had done.

“And how are they?” Lestrade questioned.

“Oh they’re all fine, the cuts and contusions weren’t anything out of the common way, most of them were down with colds from the rain, for the most part they should all return to work alongside you when the week is out. Watson announced as he put away his instruments. “Now, I don’t think you need to worry too much about bed rest, just make sure you eat well and get the proper amount of sleep and those sniffles should disappear that headache is just some pressure from that, thank god it has nothing to do with that bump on the back of your head. That should go away shortly but I would refrain from getting whacked on the back of that hard head of yours any time soon.” Watson concluded with a chuckle as he helped Lestrade into the dressing gown. He waiting for Lestrade to tie it closed before pulling the man into a hug, slapping his back in a manly fashion before pulling away and looking to Lestrade. “Congrats old chap, glad you finally found a spot of sunshine out of all of this gloom.” Lestrade clapped his hand on Watson’s shoulder.

“Let’s go have some champagne and celebrate.” Lestrade groused, not used to all this affection from his colleagues.

“Yes, time to toast to the happy occasion.” Watson said leading the way down the stairs to the parlor. Everyone was waiting for them, even Bessie who was gushing over the ring Greg had bestowed on Molly. It was quite the jewel and neither Hooper had seen something so fine in all their life. Bessie joked very crassly that Molly Hooper had hit quite the jackpot. Thank goodness when Lestrade came down the joke hadn’t been heard. Of course, in the aftermath of the weekend, Lestrade’s sniffles and most of the room lacking a decent night’s sleep, it wasn’t the ideal proposal but in Molly’s eyes as the flutes of champagne were passed she couldn’t recall a time that was as perfect as this.

Dr. Hooper rose from his chair to speak, finding words he hadn’t known he could, he was more than ready to hear them catch in his throat. Prehaps he could pretend that Molly was still his little girl for just a little bit longer. “They say that when you marry off your only daughter, you’re not losing a daughter, you’re gaining a son as well. Well Gregory Lestrade, I know that I am not that old in comparison with our Detective Inspector here. I believe only about five and twenty years separates us, but I believe I can share a fair bit of wisdom in the future as you stumble through these future first years of marriage. I look to you quite like the son I wished to have had but a son that I shall be blessed with in this union. I hope you do not take this in a patronizing way, when I do say to you that I am proud of you. For many things, it is hard not be proud of our Scotland Yard, as they fought so bravely this weekend, but most of all for finally plucking up the courage to ask me permission to marry the best daughter anyone could ask for, and the best woman that I know next to her dearly departed mother. I am filled with happiness for the both of you. But most especially for my little dove, Molly, as I will no longer have to worry about her ending up a spinster like my sister Evelyn. To Molly!”

There was a hearty cheer, and he looked around the room trying not to meet Molly’s eyes, which were misty upon hearing her father’s kind words to her future husband and herself. The champagne was drunk. People offered their congratulations and Molly bloomed under the praise she received, her cheeks rosy. It was then that a hearty rounnd of “For They are Jolly Good Fellows” was sung. After that, the young Lieutenant announced that he was leaving, not just to go home and enjoy his time off but to spread the word around Lestrade’s division that the Detective Inspector was getting hitched. Lestrade groused that he could tell everyone himself but laughed and hugged the young man just the same. Sherlock and John couldn’t find a reason to stay any longer, Sherlock himself had caroused and tolerated human interaction for long enough and announced it was time to leave by saying “Come along John, there’s work to be done!” His great coat billowing behind him after he bestowed one more kiss on Molly’s cheek was the only farewell he offered the room. John said farewells to the room, taking time to give Lestrade one more manly hug and kissed Molly on her cheek before whispering something in her ear, he gave on more wave to the parlor room before following Sherlock.

“Well now that everyone has left, I believe tea and breakfast are in order.” Bessie announced leaving the Master, Molly and her new fiance alone.

“Well now that that’s over, I get to say something about this morning.” Dr. Hooper groused sitting down in his chair to light his pipe.

“I do apologize for that sir.” Lestrade said looking contrite and nervous even though he stood next to Molly holding her hand. Wasn’t he supposed to be in Molly’s bed being ill?

“Father.” Molly warned, when her father met Molly’s gaze and noticed that he was about to insight her rarely exposed ire he gulped and quickly rose to leave the room.

“Well I will only warn you not to do it again, or at the very least not let me see it, I don’t want Molly to lose her fiance to a duel. If anyone in the room shall happen to need me I shall be in my labs relaxing over some blood samples.” Dr. Hooper announced hastily removing himself from the room.

The couple looked to one another to find themselves alone, engaged and alone. He smiled shyly to his new fiancé rubbing bashfully at the back of his neck. He was about to speak when Molly abruptly stood up. She gestured for his to wait a moment and left the room towards the kitchen. She spoke to Bessie about breakfast and returned before Lestrade could miss her. She moved to the table picking up the book she was currently reading, came back to Lestrade to grab his hand. They began to climb the stairs when Lestrade asked what was happening. He was quite confused. Molly simply rolled her eyes and pulled on his hand to force him to continue to follow her. Once they were in the room she pushed him onto her bed and sat in the chair next to it. Molly lifted an eyebrow with a smile towards Lestrade until he laid back upon the pillows and became comfortable. She began to read and reached out for his hand. Lestrade let out a yawn into the silence of the room.

“I was going to suggest that I return to my rooms after this dinner this evening.” Lestrade said to her squeezing her hand. Molly looked up from her reading.

“You aren’t leaving until tomorrow evening at the very earliest and that’s only if you no longer sound like you are battling the sniffles. Now be quite and rest, Greg, I’m reading.” Molly said looking back to her book.

“Alright then,” Lestrade grumbled leaning back into the pillows. “You could at least read to me.” He groused crossing his arms looking to Molly with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“I could.” Molly nodded ignoring him entirely but began to hum. That did the trick, Lestrade closed his eyes and found the heat from the fire and Molly’s humming the perfect lullaby, easing him into a restful nap while they waited for breakfast. By Tuesday evening, Lestrade was declared well by Molly, well enough to return to living in his rooms, she had made very good use of his time and had pretty much planned their evenings for the next week. Lestrade saw the future of his life quite clearly, and he couldn’t feel the least bit nervous at being tied down to this woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! They're engaged! There's no turning back now! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the update. I hope it makes sense. I'm noticing some mistakes as I read these chapters over. At the end of the story I will go back and maybe add, edit, proofread, what have you... And then let you all know that I have done that and that if you want to, you can reread it. But for now like I said I just want to get this out there and finish it. I need to finish... something. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're actually schizophrenics, but we're not, we're socially accepted former schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	12. Champagne, Waltzes, & the Third Time is the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade finally proves how well he can wine and dine Molly Hooper when he finally has a chance to, and its glorious. Even Mycroft comes out from hiding to congratulate Molly upon her engagement. John Watson uses the celebration to introduce everyone to his lady fair, Mary Morstan. And we also see just how lucky Lestrade was in escaping the clutches of his ex-wife, who is remarkably jealous upon finding out that her ex-husband is not only doing well for himself in his career but is also happy.   
> Good on ya, Lestrade!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally this chapter worked itself out. That was a bit harder than I had anticipated, something with the move is getting me down, even in my writing man. I had to go back and forth several times with this chapter, even once I had finished writing it because Mycroft tapped me on the shoulder and announced that he had been there and I was hadn't included him. (bats away Mycroft from talking into my ear) Yes alright Mycroft I get the point no need to reiterate it. Jeez. 
> 
> I hope this as dreamy for you all to read as it was to write, I simply loved it and listened to Shubert, Strauss and Dvorak waltzes just to put myself in the spirit of the evening. *sigh* It's simply divine listening really.
> 
> I still haven't heard from cornishrexmomma and mellie about their gifts. Please contact me soon so I can let you know what it is and speak to you about it, I'd love to reward you both for being devoted readers!! 
> 
> Remember to please be patient with me while I'm still involved with this move. I pack things and fix the house up during the day and write at night so that I can post chapters and whatever else I write for you lovely people. I'm lucky I sleep when I do really.
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 12**

**Champagne, Waltzes, & the Third Time is the Charm**

 

\---

 

_The Royale (for the Third Time), Friday Evening_

_Spring, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

Along with the engagement of Miss. Hooper to Detective Lestrade came effusive congratulations and celebrations. The couple thought it only proper that it begin with a second reprise of their attempted evening at the Royale, with Dr. Hooper, Aunt Evelyn, Sherlock, his brother Mycroft, John and his new love Mary. The group all together held their breaths, as this would be the couple‘s third attempt at coming together at this elegant restaurant. Not even Mycroft could predict whether or not the couple would finally have their evening together. The second attempt was completely forgotten in the face of Lestrade battling the riots and London town itself being completely cut off during the whole episode. Mycroft had grumbled through the whole affair, answering to the Queen Victoria herself in the face of his little brother creating a riot during one of his episodic cases. The cleanup from this last charade alone had left him with a mounting pile of paperwork to sign and with it a mounting headache, he was glad to use the evening’s celebrations as reprieve from it. As promised Molly was adorned with exactly the same dress and hair that she had worn on that terrible evening that poor Lestrade had missed out on. Now with no threat of work interfering, and Lestrade’s health and head back to normal Molly was positive that nothing would come between Lestrade and her celebrating their engagement this very evening.

Aunt Evelyn took Molly’s hand that was currently rearranging the bodice of her costume for the umpteenth time, putting the fussing appendage in her lap with a soft mothering pat. “Do not worry my Molly Mouse. You are as pretty as a picture. Have nothing to fear, I daresay the Detective Inspector will be most impressed.” Evelyn Hooper smiled knowingly. There was nothing about Molly’s person that was out of the common way, but in this dress and effervescently in love as Molly was, she simply sparkled.

“I’m sure you are right dear sister. No need to go on about Molly’s looks for the tenth time since we got into your carriage and the twentieth time since you came into the house to pick us up.” Dr. Hooper groused, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the carriage slowly swayed back and forth. He never did like large gatherings or dinners. Wearing a dinner jacket, cravat and shiny shoes such as he was currently wearing was murder, and chaffed at his strongly introverted demeanor. The poor man would much rather be at home with his cigars brandy and books. The carriage came to a stop at the entrance to the place. “Ah, we‘re here! Now lets get this dreadful evening over with.” Dr. Hooper grumbled as he got out of the carriage.”

“Papa!” Molly laughed from inside the carriage as she helped her Aunt Evelyn. She gave her father a scolding look once she alighted from the carriage. Her father looked sorely chastened. Sometimes he wondered who had the authority, father or daughter.

“Well then shall we?” Aunt Evelyn gestured impatiently for them to proceed into the hall, so that she might observe Lestrade’s reaction to Molly’s ensemble. She bustled her way into the Royale. Molly tried to hide her embarrassment in the arm of her father that she clung to as her Aunt bumped and pushed past several other people below her notice to make her way into the place. Her father merely chuckled and apologized for his sister as they went in. Molly pulled on her father’s arm to call him to a halt when they got to the doors waiting for other parties to go in before them. Her father pulled her to the side and grasped both of her arms in an encouraging manner.

"Whatever is the matter, my little dove?” He watched his daughter look at her feet, and then look to the doors biting her lip. The doctor couldn’t imagine why his daughter’s courage was failing her now.

“I’m afraid, Papa, afraid to go inside. We’ve tried to have this evening before and it has ended in disaster. Twice. What if we’re cursed? What if it happens again? I dread walking through those doors and finding out.” Molly browns eyes shown with unshed tears in the lamp light and Samuel felt great sympathy for her. He understood her fears but couldn’t let her back out of this now that they were here, he tied a cravat after all.

“My dear. You can not run from things like this. There is nothing to fear. If he isn’t here tonight, he’ll have to answer to your Aunt Evelyn. And we all know how everyone must dread that.” He smiled as this received the intended response when Molly giggled.

“Papa! That is not very nice to say of my Aunt.” She tapped playfully at his suit jacket.

“Yes, but it is none the less very true. Now will you stop stalling and lets get inside? It is cold out here.” Dr. Hooper groused again, pulling her along.

“Yes it is a bit chilly. We should go inside.” Molly murmured to herself, still unsure of going in but being pulled inside by her father whether she wanted to go inside or not.

The cherry wood doors that were glass paneled and ornately decorated with gold handles were pulled open by pageboys standing at the ready, Molly always felt as if the doors opened themselves the effect was so effortless. As they made their way inside, the host greeted them, asking which party of whom they were with. When Molly announced Greg’s name and produced the invitation, the seemingly French host stood very erect as if he had the need to remember himself in the face of someone illustrious that he had mistaken for someone else. He cleared his throat, and Molly watched as his gaze seemed to remember her from several weeks ago. “But of course, mademoiselle how could I forget such a exsquizite woman. Monsieur, Mademoiselle, eef you please, ze Lestrade party eez zeez way.” The man gestured with a rather deep bow in the general direction that the party stood in the reception hall. The room was used as a place to mingle and introduce people before continuing into the rather loud dining room that almost made such conversation and introductions impossible. The meandering people and groups seemed to part for them as all eyes were on the woman in the yellow dress that had returned and now came to the Royale bearing an engagement ring. Molly spotted the back of Lestrade’s silver head. Sherlock, John and Aunt Evelyn smiled to her, the host tapped Lestrade on the shoulder, blocking the man’s view of his fiancée. “Monsieur, eef you please, ze rest of your party eez ’ere.” The man announced moving to the side. Lestrade’s face lit up, where Molly noticed before that he had appeared worried. Maybe he worried as she did, that they would not be able to pull off this evening again. But the saying goes that the third time usually is the charm. Why should this not be true for our couple on this night, dear Reader?

“We are here finally.” Dr. Hooper announced removing his coat and handing it to the butler, he shook his future son-in-laws hand before going to shake John and Sherlock’s hands as well, and bowing to Mycroft who returned it upon being introduced, stating that he already knew who Dr. Hooper was and was glad to finally meet Molly‘s father. He knew all eyes were on the soon to be married couple and people only looked to the father of the bride for tears and warm words. The host seemed to have remembered himself and moved to take the cape that Molly wore that hid her dress from Lestrade’s view. Everyone else looked to Lestrade as Molly removed it.

“Fuh…” was about all that Lestrade had managed to say before the Molly’s dress was revealed for his consideration. The poor man‘s jaw seemed to unhinge and his eyebrows shot up into this hairline. He was completely taken aback. Lestrade had thought of any number of things in his fantasies of Molly in some misty unimaginative form of this dress but these were all nothing compared to the vision before him. “My God…” The man said with a smile before his mouth dropped open again. He felt like a university lad again seeing the French girls the frequented all the best parties. He had to remind himself to breathe. Lestrade tried not to hear Sherlock chuckle mockingly at him in the background.

“Well done Miss. Hooper. For a man of few words, you’ve left Lestrade at a loss for all of them. The poor man can barely utter a syllable.” Sherlock smiled to John who stifled a laugh himself. It really was quite comical, but Molly did in fact look quite beautiful.

“Indeed Sherlock, very well done.” Mycroft agreed with a smile.

“Come now, Sherlock, Mycroft, it’s not Lestrade’s fault he‘s completely disarmed in the face of Molly‘s beauty.” John and Sherlock were lost to their laughter, enjoying the chance to tease Lestrade mercilessly. Mycroft merely smiled in agreement. Neither Lestrade nor Molly heard any of it. They were lost to the rest of the world. Lestrade just couldn’t tear his gaze away from her and Molly blushed under his heavy heated gaze. Excitement curled into her chest from deep inside. It was going to prove to be an interesting evening.

“Come now you three really, you sound like little school boys.” Came a sweet, lilting voice from behind Sherlock who moved aside, revealing a petite and pretty young woman that was a mirrored match of the army doctor. John turned around to greet Mary with a smile of a man that was completely smitten. This broke Molly’s gaze and once again, not knowing who was the owner to the voice. This was Greg’s opportunity to close his mouth, and he shook his head to clear it. Though he was fighting a losing battle when Molly stood in front of him, revealing the back of the dress, to meet the new addition to the party. His mouth hung open once again. John brought Mary forward who was all ease and friendliness.

“Hello you must be Miss. Hooper! John has spoken so much about you. My apologies for not being present earlier, apparently I missed quite the show.” Mary smiled gesturing with a nod and raised eyebrow to Lestrade and then to John and Sherlock before reaching out to shake Molly’s hand. Mary made her own introductions and John simply smiled and let her. “I am Miss. Morstan. But please call me Mary.” She smiled looking from Molly to Lestrade, appraising their actions towards one another. She noted with keen eyes, that Lestrade’s gaze was still completely glued to Molly who seemed to be completely ignorant to the fact that the man was completely mesmerized.

“It is lovely to meet you Mary and you may call me Molly. I am so glad that John has found someone so delightful and lovely. You look beautiful this evening.” Molly complimented Mary, but it was no lie on Molly’s part. Molly was envious of her posh hairstyle. Her beautiful blond hair was very short and pushed back, nothing of the usual styles that ladies wore, very forward in Molly’s opinion and it suited the sprightly woman very well. Mary wore a muted lavender dress that hugged her shoulders but unlike Molly her dress revealed her shoulders and arms and she didn’t wear gloves. The dress flowed down to the floor wear there was a small train, and the entire dress was covered in a bird pattern that was made of black silk, the cap sleeves were also in back and were shaped like feathers. It suited the woman perfectly.

“I could say the same of you on both counts Molly! Your dress is absolutely divine. A work of art, really. You must tell me which modiste you went to, it is simply remarkable. Do you not think so Lestrade?” Mary questioned, putting Lestrade on the spot and helping him to recover from his awed stupor. The party, excepting Molly looked at him with humorous twinkles in their eyes. The true test, would Lestrade be able to recover himself, and form actual words this evening. Lestrade realized he was being put on the spot and shook his head to clear it.

“Y-yes, Molly looks divine.” Lestrade looked deeply into her eyes with a soft smile which put a pretty blush upon the lady’s cheeks. “Simply beautiful.” John and Sherlock whispered to each other with boyish giggles, which earned them both a glare from Mary, but they became completely unhinged when Dr. Hooper joined in on their fun. The party was lost to laughter when Aunt Evelyn thumped Dr. Hooper with her purse. It was then that the host made a timely reappearance and interrupted the three men receiving a lecture from Aunt Evelyn. The man tapped politely upon Lestrade’s shoulder, who turned around and accepted the man’s deep genuflecting bow.

“Pardon moi for intruding upon ze party Monsieur, but I am obliged to inform you zat ze table you have rezerved eez waiting pour vous.” Lestrade nodded looking to the group then to Molly.

“Shall we?” He questioned, when Molly nodded he looked back to the host. “Lead the way, Henri.” The man bowed further and then gestured for the group to make their way to the doors leading to the dining room.

“But of course, Monsieur. Zis way, s’il vous plait.” Lestrade gave an arm to Molly that she took with both hands, and the rest of the group followed suit. The great doors leading to the dining swung open, and red velvet curtains were pulled aside, revealing the dining room from the evening Molly had spent without Lestrade, only this time it seemed to sparkle differently, and an orchestra played in the balcony that had not been there the evening Molly had attended. In fact, there seemed to be room cleared for dancing, as several couples now were seen dancing across the floor around the tables. Molly clung to Lestrade and he watched her dazzled features knowing he had done well for this their special evening. The party was gazed upon by the throng of other party goers as they made their way across the room to their table. It was not a usual sight for those at the Royale to have such entertainment as dancing except for special occasions, rumors flowed, all centered around the Detective Inspector from one of the most powerful families in all England and what lengths he was going to for his new fiancée. It was most impressive a show for a man engaging himself to a woman of so little fortune and position, especially the third son of the family who made his way in such a career as working for Scotland Yard. Even while the lady in question was the niece of the illustrious Evelyn Hooper. It made for quite a scandalous affair. Quite scandalous indeed. While the men groused at the audacity of such a display, the women looked upon the couple covetously. The grand show hinting to all that were there to witness the couple that it must have been true love between them, then.

“I don’t remember there being dancing the last time I was here.” Molly questioned as Lestrade pulled out her seat for her, which Molly glided into effortlessly. Molly was thankful that for once she didn’t appear the slightest bit clumsy. That was until Lestrade decided it was a grand idea to whisper in her ear.

“I might have pulled a few strings.” Lestrade explained in a husky whisper, then he took the seat beside her, flicking out the tails of his suit jacket with practiced ease.

“What kind of strings?” Molly questioned, her confidence flagging as she was slow to realize just how influential a man Lestrade was, and she was engaged to him.

“Very interesting and powerful ones.” Mycroft announced from across the table, knowing the Lestrade family and Greg himself very well but from a distance. The Holmes and Lestrade family were equally as wealthy but never mixed or socialized together, Lestrade’s family preferring the northern part of the country and the Holmes family preferring town and the eastern parts of the country. The Holmes boys and Lestrade only came together through the work and Mycroft only when that work interfered with government business and international politics. Mycroft himself was glad to be there on this evening to celebrate with the happy couple, especially Molly, whom he thought he owed a great debt, because of her he was able to join his brother in the celebrations. He owed Molly everything and was relieved to see her happy.

“Strings only a man like me can pull.” Lestrade corrected, he rested a hand upon his chin to support his head, and stared longingly into Molly’s eyes with a sly smile. He lifted his eyebrows in a flirtatious gesture to her and Molly demurred politely looking to the orchestra and dancing couples.

“Oh Greg, this simply wonderful. Absolutely spectacular.” Molly marveled at the room and the music that swelled off the walls and made the air swirl around them. Lestrade pulled her attention back when he reached out to claim her hand for his own kissing her fingertips, which caused Molly to gasp, surprised at the action and public display. The rest of the table looked to the action with laughter.

“As are you.” Lestrade chuckled when she shook her head at him. “I did it all for you, my love. To celebrate our engagement.” Molly met his gaze then and they smiled beatifically at one another. There was no doubting to anyone at the table, as they watched and commented upon the couple that they were in love. As Sherlock was saying, it was completely obvious, though he groaned when they looked dreamily into each other‘s eyes. The display was wholly unnecessary, especially in public, but the couple really had never been all that discreet. Mycroft smiled at Sherlock, using the opportunity to take a jab at Sherlock’s lack of experience, the brother responding with a glare.

The happy celebration was interrupted by the host and several waiters that followed in his wake. Each waiter handed out a menu to each person at the table, excepting one who carried a rather ornate silver champagne seau. The man gestured to the ice bucket and the bottle contained therein. “Ze Royale sends ze party zis bottle of champagne to congratulate ze Madamoiselle and her rathzer dashing et debonair fiancé on zer engagement wiz our complimentz.” The table hurrahed as the flamboyant host popped the champagne to the applause of the table. The champagne was lifted aloft by the group at the table once it was poured. Lestrade stood and the table looked to him ready to hear his speech.

“It is not every man that gets to say he has met the love of his life, and it has taken me on quite the journey before I have met mine. And she is not only a beauty to behold, but a beauty of also the mind and heart as well.”

“Hear, hear!” John Mycroft and Dr. Hooper shouted in unison, while the ladies laughed.

“I consider myself a very lucky man to have gotten such a splendid second chance at a happy life. I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you, my darling girl.” Molly and Lestrade shared an increasingly private look. “To Molly Hooper, my angelic fiancée.” The rest of the table toasted to her before clinking their glasses. Before the host could make his exit Lestrade gained his attention. “My good man, there’s no need for menu’s this evening, bring us the best of everything the Royale has to offer, and please send a bottle of this fine champagne to each of the tables with my compliments and tell them that it is to celebrate the happy occasion of our engagement. I’m a man in love and everyone should take advantage of it!” Lestrade bent down to kiss Molly to the whistles and applause of agreement from Sherlock and John. Mycroft commenting on what an excellent vintage they were serving for the evening’s celebrations, telling the host to reserve a bottle for himself to take home with him. The table laughed, even Dr. Hooper, glad that once the man released his daughter, she was smiling the biggest smile he had ever seen upon her face. The tables around the room sporadically applauded when they found champagne being delivered to their tables, pops echoing across the room as the bottles were opened and poured. Lestrade looked to Molly suddenly inspired. “Shall we dance?” He questioned. Molly didn’t know whether it was the champagne or the happy atmosphere but she completely forgot herself and agreed taking his hand. The couple made their way to the dance floor just as an airy, swift waltz began. Several other pairs of happy dancers nodded to the newly engaged couple, a couple of men even thanking Lestrade for the champagne with an effusive handshake, before the waltz commenced. It was then that Molly suddenly remembered herself and squeaked when Lestrade put his hand about her waist, her own on his shoulder, while her other hand laid delicately upon his right. She had never danced before in her life! Not even when as a young girl, there had been no money for things like dancing, piano, language, or drawing lessons. Such things that parents did for their little girls so that they would turn into graceful young ladies. She only had her Aunt Evelyn’s guidance for that.

“Wait, we can’t I don’t know how to dance!” She whispered to Lestrade as they twirled around the dance floor, Lestrade smiling to the surrounding tables that lifted their full champagne glasses to them. He laughed when Molly squealed as he glided her effortlessly to across the dance floor.

“Oh, Miss. Molly it’s far too late for that, we’re already dancing. Just like its far to late for you to back out of our engagement now as the whole of London will know of it by tomorrow. No, you’re stuck with me on all counts.” Molly threw her head back and giggled in delight which continued to make Lestrade bubble over with laughter, just as the bubbles from the champagne bubbled over glasses around the room. The tables lifting their glasses to the couple whenever they twirled by.

“How am I doing this, Greg?” Molly questioned. With Greg holding onto her, and his firm guiding movements, she felts absolutely no need to look down at her feet to make sure they weren’t becoming tied together or stepping upon Lestrade’s own feet.

“You have me to guide you.” Greg smiled softly, which Molly returned with a sigh and a soft smile of her own. She was twirled and spun around the dance floor, losing herself in the lively music and in Lestrade’s eyes. The whole room, even the other couples dancing watched Lestrade and the mysterious Miss. Hooper dance on the floor. The whole room mentioned the lovely couple and how wonderful young love must be. Even how lucky the seasoned Detective Inspector was to find young love once again. Some gazed with romantic longing, others gazed upon them wistfully in memory. Dr. Hooper certainly did, a proud father, wishing his daughter was young again so that he might have more time with her, but seeing clearly for the first time that his daughter would very shortly no longer be his alone anymore. His sister took his hand and gave him a sympathetic look to which he waved away dismissively taking a sip of the champagne. The fact that Lestrade thought it no trouble at all to order a bottle of this fine effervescent liquid for every table there tonight spoke of his family’s wealth. How the Hoopers had become so lucky he had no idea. Luck was not a name that was synonymous with the Hoopers.

“We seem to be causing quite a large amount of gossip tonight.” Molly noticed once she took a moment to look around her at their audience as she was spun. She heard whispers mentioning herself and Lestrade when the couples were close enough to them as they passed by. She didn’t notice Lestrade pulling Molly in close so that he could whisper into her ear.

“Does it matter? Let them talk. I don’t care what anyone says as long as I have you.” Lestrade whispered, before kissing the spot below her ear that was behind her jaw line. This rose goose bumps all over Molly’s skin and she looked into his sparkling, happy eyes with a sigh. It was shortly after that the waltz came to an end, to which all the couples that danced applauded the orchestra before taking their seats.

When Molly and Lestrade took their seats, the table was served. Food, wine and spirits flowed without end throughout the evening, both equally exquisite. Both Lestrade and the Holmes’ commented to the host Henri about how the Royale had outdone itself this time. When Molly questioned if Lestrade had been quite the regular at the fine establishment, he dismissed it as nothing was a wave of his hand, and offered her another waltz before they would be served dessert. Molly agreed and a slow romantic sonata flowed through the hall. Mary and John joined the happy couple for this dance, and Molly managed to take a moment from staring longingly into Lestrade’s eyes to notice the look John gave Mary and how happy she looked in return. If Mary was as wonderful a woman as she seemed, Molly thought that she would indeed have a new friend.

When the couples returned to their seats, the dessert cart had arrived accompanied with an after dinner sherry for the ladies and brandy with cigars for the men and just as Lestrade had supposed Molly had chosen the chocolate cake. To his consternation, she also did indeed dip her finger into the icing to taste it, while he watched from his chair next to her, helpless. The little nymph even went so far as to meet his eyes with a questioning glance as if she had no idea what she was doing to him. The poor man could only take so much. He had his revenge however when he gently fingered the swath of skin of Molly’s back exposed by the keyhole opening of her dress. Molly gasped and shuddered under his touch, looking down to her plate unable to take a bite. Lestrade continued to draw inconsequential circles into her skin with his fingertips as he leaned next to her as he conversed with her Aunt Evelyn of how much she enjoyed the evening. The position offered Molly a chance to be overwhelmed with the delicious smell of his cologne and she tried not to seem overcome to anyone that might be watching. She took a sip of her champagne and tried not to simply lean over into Lestrade, she felt like she could sleep for an eternity in his arms with him doing that to her back. Realizing it had occurred to her to think of herself in that way with Lestrade, the two of them laying together as man and wife, intimately, made her blush. Sometimes her brain was too much for her own good. She tried to pick up her fork to have a bite and succeeded once Lestrade leaned back into his own chair again. Molly sighed in relief which caught the attention of Sherlock, while Mycroft simply pretended not to notice like everyone else at the table. Unlike Sherlock, he didn’t lack the ability to mix in polite company.

“Are you alright, Molly? Or has Lestrade overwhelmed you in some secretive manner?” Sherlock questioned, reading Molly and her searing blushed face expertly, earning glares from both Mary and John. They had made him promise, no deductions this evening, but it was unavoidable as he had reminded them both that he can’t simply just turn it on and off like a tap.

“I’m quite alright Sherlock thank you.” Molly smiled sipping her champagne and looking to Lestrade, who looked to her with a lascivious smile upon his face. That man and his tricks. Molly shrugged to herself, at least it would make for an interesting marriage. “I was just reflecting upon how wonderful this evening has been. Truly.” She smiled in Lestrade’s eyes and rubbed her hand upon his thigh as he took a sip of champagne and coughed into his glass in surprise at her secretive action under the table where no one would be able to see. Lestrade looked to her with a smile and a glare, Molly simply looked away. “Everything alright, Greg?” Molly questioned, sipping her own champagne. Lestrade had never in all his days known a woman to be as sneaky like his Molly, the minx.

“Perfectly fine, just some bubbles up my nose is all.” Lestrade chuckled, excusing himself to the gents. The women at the table used the opportunity to be off to the powder room as well. Molly followed shortly after Mary and her aunt and was almost into the room when a pair of hands came about her waist and pulled her out onto a terrace leading to the garden behind the restaurant. When Molly looked up she was so glad to see her Greg looking down upon her, until she noted the awfully devilish look in his eyes. He pushed her backwards until she felt the roughened brick wall meet her back.

“That was an awfully dirty trick you played on me in there, Molly.” Greg accused in a deep gravelly voice that made Molly shiver. Lestrade’s hand rested on his hip and the other rested against the wall of the Royale, blocking Molly’s escape. “I shall have to punish you.” Before Molly could open her mouth to accuse him of his wandering fingers on her back, Lestrade covered her mouth with his, devouring her words on a whimper. Lestrade groaned into the kiss losing himself and forgetting why he had pulled her onto the terrace entirely expect for being able to do this right now at this moment. Molly threaded her fingers into his silver hair losing herself in his kisses, Lestrade kissed her until his lungs burned and Molly kissed back until her lips felt like they were on fire. When they parted for breath, Lestrade leaned his forehead on hers, reached in for a quick caress of his lips on hers before he was able to speak.

“I know I had meant that in jest, but I have been longing to do that all night. You have been enrapturing me all evening, and are so beautiful I just couldn’t contain myself any longer. I‘m trying to play the part of a gentlemen but you my little Minx make that very difficult.” He confessed to Molly, moving down to kiss what her neck through the lace that was bound around it, Molly for once hating the material that separated his lips from the skin underneath it.

“Consider myself sorely chastened then, my fiancé.” Molly conceded with a flirtatious voice, which made Greg laugh into her neck. Molly pressed into him as the vibrations rumbled through her entire body, when their bodies touched Lestrade growled into her throat. Molly would have moaned were she not silenced by another searing kiss from Lestrade’s lips.

“I wish there was more time for us here, now.” Lestrade looked regretful of the face that they were in polite company and couldn’t get away with the affections they had shared the morning of his proposal. “I think of that morning often you know.” He swiped at the blush that came to her cheeks with his thumb. He kissed her lips then her nose and forehead. “I’m a ruined old man thanks to you, my love.” He smiled fondly down at her.

Molly reached up to kiss his jaw, smiling into his rough skin there upon his surprised intake of breath. “You’re neither ruined nor old by my estimation and since I am soon to be your wife that is the only opinion that matters. Now I have to go to the powder room and make sure I am entirely presentable before returning to the table, and you should do the same.” Molly instructed patting at the lapels of his suit before leaning up to kiss him one last time before escaping from the terrace like a butterfly or wisp of yellow smoke. Lestrade stomped his foot and guffawed at her audacity, leaving him just as quickly as she came. He returned to the table long before she returned but the ladies were already back from their powder room visit and were aflutter with worry. He calmed them as best as he could until Molly returned a few minutes after. She tried to diffuse their questions as much as possible, claiming she lost herself on the terrace and wandered around until she finally found the ladies room. Both women raised their eyebrows at this.

“I would say from the matching pairs of swollen lips and the lipstick on Lestrade’s jaw that Molly is lying but that would be hardly an appropriate thing to say on so lovely an evening. Neither am I allowed to say.” Sherlock announced, gaining himself an elbow to the ribs from Mycroft as he was taking a drink of champagne. “Really Mycroft, is that necessary?” He questioned with an eyebrow, using a silk napkin from the table to wipe at his chin and chest dramatically even though he had hardly spilled a drop on himself.

“Yes!” Mary and John scolded in unison looking to Sherlock in exasperation. Of course they had all noticed that the couple had a private moment to themselves but it hardly needed commenting on. It’s no wonder John had been so reluctant to introduce her to him, if he said things like this in public, John must have worried what he would say about herself.

The evening pressed on, even with Sherlock announcing what the couple had been up to, and it was a delightful one. It was well after midnight before Dr. Hooper and Evelyn made their excuses to leave, Dr. Hooper to escort her home and because they were both older and it was well past their bedtime. Dr. Hooper gave a nod to Lestrade when he announced he would see Molly home and the siblings left the young people to the rest of the night. The other couples, Mycroft and Sherlock remained for only a little longer the excitement from the evening wearing thin upon them all. Once the bill was paid, Lestrade arguing with Henri for several minutes to pay the bill when the Royale wanted to take care of it for him, the carriages were ordered. Everyone said their goodbyes for the evening, Mary and Molly promised to meet again Sunday afternoon for tea with Aunt Evelyn, Sherlock John and Mary made their way into one, Mycroft alighted his own carriage that simply seemed to appear whenever he wanted to leave anywhere, leaving only after he kissed Molly upon the hand congratulating them both one last time, and that left the newly engaged couple with a carriage to themselves, with no chaperone. Molly and Lestrade had the decency to at least wait until they were in the carriage before they began to kiss each other into oblivion.

“Oh Greg, I can never thank you enough for this evening, it was so marvelous. I don’t know how I was so lucky to have found you. It must have been so expensive an evening I dare not imagine how much you must have spent. And all for someone of no fortune and little standing, like me.” Molly voiced her concerns over the disparity in their circumstances as Greg pushed aside the lace around her neck to nibble onto the skin he found there that seemed to shine in the moon light. Whether Lestrade cared to take notice of it or not, class and money were serious issues and it was what had everyone‘s attention that evening. When he heard her speak, he pulled back and smirked when a whimper of complaint fell from Molly’s lips. His ego swelled knowing he could still make a woman as beautiful as Molly hunger for his touch.

“First of all, what I did tonight was in celebration, for us, for our future together. I could never regret any of that, ever. There’s no need to thank me for it, Molly.” Molly watched the smile die on his face as it was replaced by a sober expression. She felt silly now for opening her mouth in the first place. She looked down to his tuxedo and then away from him. Silly Molly strikes again. “Dear- Molly-” Greg lifted her chin until she looked into his eyes, knowing that she was probably berating herself for speaking. He hated when she did that, he wanted Molly to be free and open with him, able to express herself, even if she stumbled doing it. “My love, don’t hide what you feel from me, please. I want us to have an open and frank relationship, always. However, I do not know how to say this but I will just say what I feel. I don’t care about my circumstances, or yours. It means nothing. And I care the least for what those people in that room tonight thought or what they’ll tell people about us tomorrow. I couldn’t give a flying fig if we were the richest family in England or the poorest of beggars on the street. As long as we are happy and you love me, I want for nothing else in this world. But I will tell you Molly, you never have to worry my love. I will always provide for you.” Lestrade finished his speech running his fingers along her jaw line in a gentle caress.

“I don’t care about that Greg.” Molly really didn’t. “I don’t care about things like security, or what you’ll give me. I want nothing, just you and your love.” Molly sighed resting her head on this chest.

“All the same, little mouse. I want you to know that you’ll be safe with me. I’ll take care of you, provide for you, keep you safe. You’ll be my wife, I want to protect you.” Lestrade grumbled stroking the back of her head and neck, weaving his fingers into the hair there.

“Really?” Molly questioned touched by the vows of husbandly duty Lestrade was professing inside the space of the carriage.

“Yes of course.” Lestrade looked down and looked back up through his brow when Molly’s fingers tangled into his silver locks. “I love you, my dearest Molly.”

Molly smiled and giggled in response. “I already knew that.” She teased kissing Lestrade on the lips, boldly reaching out with her teeth to nibble at his bottom lip, which caused him to moan to her delight. He pushed her off and wrapped a hand around her jaw. His powerful grip had her at his mercy, the thought made her shudder.

“I didn’t hear you say it back to me love.” Lestrade flashed his teeth and kissed her hard on the lips once before moving down to devour her neck. When he found a spot that made her moan he began to suck a mark into her skin.

“Oh! Oh lord. I do. Greg! Ah! I love you. Oh god how I love you!” Molly cried when Lestrade nibbled and licked at the mark he created until she said the words he wanted to hear, he smiled into her neck with one last soft kiss on his work and pulled back to look at the glazed over expression of her face, her swollen lips hanging open. It was enough to make him moan, leaving one last final kiss on her lips when they came to a stop in front of her home. If this was how unhinged he became now, he only imagined how he would devour this poor girl once they were married. The thought of that expression on her face as well made sitting decidedly uncomfortable. They turned away from each other so that Molly could make herself presentable once again, knowing that if they did look at each other any further they would be lost to each other entirely. When Molly announced herself ready, Lestrade jumped down from the carriage and escorted her to the her front steps but ventured no further. He kissed her hand with a promise that they would go for a stroll through Regent’s Park in the afternoon. Molly agreed bidding Lestrade farewell with one last “I love you” that Lestrade returned simply with an “I know” getting to the carriage. Molly stomped her foot incredulously and giggled making her way into the house and to bed. That night Molly dreamed of an enormous room like the Royale filled with light where Lestrade waltz her in circles surrounded by their loved ones. It was a delightful end to a delightful evening.

\---

The next day found Aunt Evelyn taking tea at Alamack’s with her other sisters of gossip, that is to say some of the most senior and illustrious women in all of England. Evelyn Hooper always counted herself lucky to be friends with them. They questioned her mercilessly about her niece and the handsome silver fox detective, whose surname was almost as illustrious as their own, that ensnared her. Evelyn Hooper was only too glad to oblige them, giving them all the details of the evening that she possibly could. The group of elder women ‘ooh-’ed and cooed at all of the details Evelyn gave them, about Lestrade and how he filled the room that evening with champagne. The ladies laughed most especially when she told them of Molly’s mysterious “absence” during the evening but how the two lovebirds needed a minute to themselves, yet Lestrade was ever the gentleman really, just a man in love with her niece. The women all nodded their heads sagely, the feathers of their hats bobbing with the movement. No one was witting of the jealous woman staring daggers at Evelyn Hooper until she and her party made their way over to the matriarchs of the ton.

“Ms. Evelyn Hooper, is it not?” The woman in question interrupted their conversation ever so rudely, silencing the tittering elder women. They all stared at her and marveling at her audacity, the women sitting next to Evelyn whispered who it was but she waved them away with authority. It was not beyond her, who this person was that would be so rude as to think her personage of equal standing as herself. It was not beyond Evelyn’s notice either who would be daring enough to think herself high up in the ranks of society to assume such a familiarity with her to think an interruption would be welcome. “I believe you were speaking of an engagement party? The rumor is that your niece is to be wed imminently to my former husband Gregory Lestrade, which begging your pardon I believe we all know can’t possibly be true.” The woman snapped open her fan and tittered to her friends behind it, the other women of her party however were no fools. It would not do well for them to make fun of Evelyn Hooper’s niece, as no one was a member at Alamack’s without the good opinion of Evelyn Hooper, she had the ears of the most important women of the ton, therefore she had a say in everything.

“Yes it is. They were most recently engaged but are discussing plans for the wedding as we speak as I know my soon-to-be nephew in-law is most anxious to be married to my Molly. He does dote on her immensely. I was just celebrating with them last night at the Royale. And I believe we all know exactly who you are, Rebecca Rothschilde.” Evelyn Hooper had a way with sniping, snaky women such as this strumpet. Don’t sink to their level, hit them where it hurts. And nothing would hurt Miss. Rothschilde like knowing her ex-husband was happy with someone new, and she herself was seen floundering from bedroom to bedroom of all the men of the ton. Struggling to maintain herself and the lifestyle she was accustomed after her failed marriage.

“I believe you are mistaken, my name is no longer Rothschilde and still is Mrs. Rebecca Lestrade.” Lestrade’s ex-wife lifted her chin defiantly, turning to those women of her party that laughed in agreement behind her. At this Evelyn Hooper stood up, her ire rising in the face of this woman’s treachery.

“I doubt you shall be holding onto that name any longer. It will not be long before my niece takes her rightful place as the one _and_ only Mrs. Lestrade.” Evelyn Hooper confirmed this confidently with a nod of her head. The other women around her nodded in agreement. How dare this woman come up to Evelyn Hooper and speak of her niece in such a way. Rebecca Lestrade nee Rothschilde blushed, her own anger rising at facing the embarrassment of being beaten in a verbal match with she thought so beneath her notice as Evelyn Hooper.

“We shall see about that. I doubt the Lestrade family will be so welcoming of someone so beneath their notice as a mousy little nobody with the name of Molly Hooper.” At this assault of her niece the rest of Evelyn Hooper’s party rose to defend her, glaring daggers upon Rebecca Lestrade nee Rothschilde and the women who foolishly held her company. The group of women shrunk away leaving the vicinity, Rebecca leading them with a graceful, pointed chin held aloft in a huff. When they reached the steps outside of Alamack’s whose doors shut firmly behind them Rebecca spoke to them women behind her. “Mark my words. That little Miss. Hooper had better be prepared. If I can’t have Gregory Lestrade, no woman can.” And with that she stormed off down the avenue, her friends bustling behind in her wake.

The couple in question and that was such a swarming topic of gossip in London, and whose engagement was announced in papers all over the England and its country side was completely unwitting of clouds brewing around them. They strolled through the park that afternoon as Lestrade had promised. They talked happily amongst each other, neither for one second doubting in each other’s love or that they were destined for a happily marriage together. They gave not a thought to Lestrade’s past, or how it was ready to catch up with his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOh that ex-wife of his is out for blood!!! The question is will she get it? Or will Lestrade and Molly be able to keep it together? I hope they do, you'll just have to keep reading and wait for updates to find out. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it took me all night to get it together to post. Phew. But I did it! I shall try to keep up the momentum but I make no promises... Especially with the current state of my life at the moment. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	13. Mouse Meets the Devil in the Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter with his ex-wife leaves Lestrade fuming, she's out for tears as she smells blood in the water. If she can't be happy then no one can! 
> 
> Molly defends herself, and in the wake Rebecca Rothschilde leaves behind gives Lestrade an ultimatum. Her or Molly? The choice shall prove to be easy. Shouldn't it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm spoiling my readers something awful with this, just rolling right into the next chapter, but this kind of spilled from my fingers. I always find the dramatically heightened bits easier to write. But then again, those are the juicier bits to write. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter, and feel for Molly's situation as I do. Again if anyone wants me to draw some of these dresses and characters out to show you what I think they look like, please feel free!!! I'll make an attempt of it at least. I don't have a BFA for nothing... 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 13**

**Mouse Meets the Devil in the Flesh**

 

\---

 

_Inside the Office of Gregory Lestrade_

_Scotland Yard, Monday Morning_

_Early Summer, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

Several weeks passed blissfully for our couple, plans were made for their future, dates were set, and they were well on their way to becoming man and wife. This delighted mood carried on to Lestrade’s division of Scotland Yard that were glad to celebrate the engagement of their Detective Inspector to their delight, when the future Mrs. Lestrade brought treats for them all to celebrate. They all toasted to the sweet lady glad that the boss would be in a much better mood in the months to come. Breaks away from these lively discussions of the impending nuptials found Lestrade working in his office in Scotland Yard. Weeks after that infernal riot and he was still buried in paperwork that it caused. His entire division seemed to be drowning in it as one of the responding divisions to the riot. There were injury claims, false arrest claims, the works and the Chief Inspector was after everyone to finish their paperwork in a timely manner, that meant double time for his division. They were lucky that there were few cases that involved help from Sherlock during this time, any cases that came about were open and shut.

Noise sprang from the hall interrupting his concentration and causing him to stain the papers underneath his pen with globs of ink. He had already written out the same information three separate times, this would make four, and was just going to get up from his desk to see what the ruckus was with a slam of his hands on the desk. His door swung upon at the same time as his former wife strolled in with several people trying to halt her entry, including his secretary, Miss. Sally Donovan. The girl looked to him with a raised eyebrow. Lestrade at first didn’t respond, not knowing how to, he was at complete shock at seeing his ex-wife before him, thinking they had severed connections and he had moved on.

“Sir, I tried to stop her from disturbing you, but she pushed her way through.” Announced Lieutenant Jones, he had known his boss before he had severed ties with this devious woman and didn’t like the idea of her showing up now, just when the boss had found someone like the wonderful Miss. Hooper. Someone like who the former Mrs. Lestrade was played devious games with people, and he could smell that she was up to something.

“It’s alright men, you can leave. I can handle this. Get back to your paperwork. Nothing to see here.” Lestrade announced walking over to scatter the crowd that was brewing in front of his door. There was juicy gossip galore with the boss’s ex-wife turning up shortly after his engagement to someone knew, that’s all Lestrade needed was everyone at his place of work blabbing about whatever Rebecca wanted by turning up here, today of all days.

“Are you sure, sir?” Miss. Donovan eyeing the former Mrs. Lestrade speculatively, not liking her one bit.

“Yes, Miss. Donovan. It’s fine.” Lestrade reiterated, turning Miss. Donovan forcibly and guiding her gently out of the door he slammed closed after he got her out of the room. Unfortunately when he turned around his ex-wife was still in the room. He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he felt a headache coming on. “Ms. Rothschilde what are you doing here?” He questioned coming around the room to put the solid oak of his desk as a barrier between them. Rebecca Rothschilde stood before him in the finest of her red dresses complete with an extremely fine leopard fur wrap that Lestrade knew he never gave her and most likely came from one of her many, many lovers she kept either during or after their marriage. She wore black lace gloves with rubies around her neck, and on her ears. Her blond hair was topped off with a red hat, edged with a black lace veil her red lips shining like the sinful woman she was to complete the devilish picture. The visage Rebecca Rothschilde created would be enticing for any man, excepting Lestrade who knew what it was to become tangled up in this black widow’s spiderweb. In retrospect that’s what she became in his mind, nothing more than a spider that would be the death of him if he got too close.

“Oh dear, is that any way to speak to your wife, Gregory?” Rebecca pouted taking off her leopard wrap to place it on one of the chairs facing his desk. She slowly did the same with each of her gloves then ran them along the edge of the desk as she walked around it. “I’m still Mrs. Lestrade you know.”

“Only in name, which I asked you to change back to Rothschilde upon our divorce. And you promised never to be in the vicinity of me again.” Lestrade growled standing in front of her with his back ram rod straight.

“I know but I just can’t help it, I miss you.” Rebecca simpered coming to stand in front of him, their bodies only centimeters apart. She leaned up to his face, tilting her head temptingly. But her former husband seemed entirely immune to her subtle charms, she’d have to be less subtle then, reach out to press her hands upon his chest. Rebecca was rebuffed again as he forcibly shoved her hands off his chest as if he were removing something disgusting off the front of his clothes.

“Maybe you should have considered that before you availed yourself with every man I considered to be my close personal friend, and then every acquaintance of mine at my club.” He snarled at her taking a few steps back away from her, distance would be the only thing that saved him, she was plotting something and he knew it.

“It wasn’t my fault you know. I was so lonely without you, night after night. Almost every night you were gone on a case and I was home, alone. I didn’t even have children to keep me company.” Rebecca continued to pout, stepping forward boldly into Lestrade’s space again even as his body quaked with restrained anger.

“Oh, that’s a laugh! You never wanted children! You detest them! I begged you repeatedly. And you sought measures to ensure that they never happened! How quickly you forget when it suits you Ms. Rothschilde!” Lestrade shouted, his anger completely unhinged now. His ears thundered with the blood rising as his chest pounded that he didn’t hear the commotion brewing in the hallway. Rebecca, the keen mastermind, was not so unaware, and was entirely witting of who was in the hallway at that exact moment. “I don’t care what you want, or why you felt the need to come down here and disrupt me while I’m working, but get out or so help me Rebecca I will slap the cuffs on you I swear it! Don’t test me!” Lestrade grumbled as the commotion reached a pitch just outside his door gaining his attention.

“Oh please Lestrade! Don’t be that way!” Rebecca used the distraction to pull him into a kiss on his lips, which wasn’t returned in the slightest as he tried to push her away from him with both hands bruising her shoulders in the process. The effect was complete when Molly chose that moment to stumble into Lestrade’s office to catch them in what would look like an embrace to her and all the on looking officers that tried to prevent her from entering.

“H…hullo…G-Greg...” Molly said, the words dying on her lips as she took in the pair of them. Lestrade finally succeeded in pushing his ex-wife away, wiping at his mouth to remove the poison of her kiss. He even took out his pocket square, wiping at his mouth to remove her lipstick with the handkerchief. “I-I was just popping by to deliver you some lunch. I was out shopping for wedding things with Mary and Aunt Evelyn, and thought I’d bring you your favorite f-fish and chips.” Molly awkwardly blushed not knowing why she felt the need to explain herself, her vision muddled around the edges by tears she tried to fight in the face of this woman. This seemed to set Lestrade off as his anger spewed forth.

“DAMN YOU, REBECCA!! YOU DEVIL WOMAN!” Lestrade roared at her uncontrollably, his face a shade of red that Molly had never seen it before. The sound reverberated off the walls and even shook some dust from the ceiling and fell unnoticed on his desk. He looked to Molly seeing her standing before him stupefied. Never had she heard him yell like that, but worse of all was seeing him in the arms of another woman. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and Lestrade felt his chest constrict in pain at the sight. “GET OUT, REBECCA!!! I TOLD YOU TO STAY OUT OF MY LIFE FOREVER!! I WANT YOU GONE NOW!! Molly please this isn’t what it looks like.” He muttered to her, his arms reaching out to hold her unconsciously even in the face of what she must think of him. If only he could explain it all to her, if only he had from the beginning. In the back of his head, he knew the reason why he didn’t was the fear of losing her, and of exposing himself to her, that she might not like what she saw.

“Oh it really is you know.” Rebecca announced menacingly, taking out her compact form her purse and she began meticulously inspecting her person adjusting her hair back into order, fixing her makeup. “I only came to see if I could talk my former husband into a reconciliation. I’ve been rather lonely of late and I wanted to see if I could change his mind, to remind him of what he had.” Rebecca announced sliding her compact into her purse and closing it fetchingly. Molly looked to herself and to the other men that were still watching the scene unfold before them, looking to Rebecca Rothschilde with ravished gazes. Molly looked down to herself and back to Rebecca, making comparisons. “You must be the Miss. Hooper I've heard about. I can see the rumors were true, you are quite the plain, most mousiest little thing. I just wanted to see the little girl that managed to nibble her way into my Gregory’s arms.” Rebecca sneered to Molly putting her gloves back on, one long, ivory finger at a time. Molly looked down to her pale, alabaster fingers and pretended not to notice the face of her fiance’s that had all at once turned ashen and looked to Rebecca with a face that would kill, if only looks could. The woman would burn up on the spot when faced with the magnitude of Lestrade’s glare.

“Rebecca…” Lestrade threatened stepping forward to remove the evil menace forcibly from the room. He stopped, mouth dropping when Molly put a hand up halting him, mid-step.

“I know exactly who you are, Rebecca Rothschilde. You despicable excuse for a gentile and well-bred lady. I know exactly what you are and why you came here today. One must wonder why you felt the need to come back to Greg in the first place? What was it? Have you run out of rich men to hop into bed with?” Molly questioned with a defiant lift of her chin. She felt no remorse for insulting the woman and her reputation, why should she when everyone knew it to be true?

“Ouch, Gregory!” Rebecca pouted mockingly, looking to Lestrade and back to Molly, throwing on her leopard wrap with a graceful ease that Molly knew she herself would never be able to master, there would be little in Rebecca’s ways that Molly would master. “I believe the little mouse has claws.” Rebecca simpered stepping before Molly, looking down from her with the few inches she did have over Molly. Molly however would not be intimidated.

“Stay away from him! From us! Do you hear me? I suggest you keep your distance from now on, you don’t know who I am but I don‘t believe there isn‘t anyone in the whole of London that doesn‘t know you.” Molly crossed her arms, digging her nails into her arms, willing herself not to slap the woman as she adjusted the veil of her hat and tossed the head of her wrap over her shoulders.

“And what will you do Little Mouse? Bite me?” Rebecca’s face twisted in a smile as she hid a tittering mocking laugh behind her affected hand.

“I won’t. I don’t need to lower myself to your level, Greg has chosen me, and divorced you. But I do know a man who wouldn’t waste the opportunity to make you disappear. One word to Mycroft Holmes of my unhappiness and you would cease to exist.” Molly glared at her and Rebecca had the decency to gulp. But she was not without one last dagger to throw.

“If you think you can make Gregory happy, just remember what kind of woman married him first. I doubt he will be entertained for very long when he realizes he married such a plain, mousy little thing. I dread to think what the Lestrade family will say when I write to them telling of the woman of low standing he's chosen. Eh, Little Mouse?” Rebecca questioned causing Molly to withdraw with a stupefied expression.

“Alright, Rebecca out with you!” Lestrade growled pushing her forcibly from his office, seeing that his men made sure she was going to leave. “Have you done enough to ruin my life already?!” He questioned to her retreating form. Both he and Molly could hear her victorious cackles echo throughout the hallway as she made her dramatic exit. He silenced the reverberating noises with a slam of his door. Molly stood in the middle of the room, her back facing him, shoulders shuddering up and down silently. He wish he could tell her to ignore all that Rebecca had said but the damage was done. “Molly…” He started to say ‘let me explain,’ but a hand from her silenced him. She took a deep shaky breath, and seemed to be rubbing at her eyes.

“So that devil of a woman was your ex-wife.” Molly announced in a watery voice into the deafening silence that prevailed now that the commotion of Rebecca Rothschilde had left. It wasn’t a question, merely a statement of the facts. She couldn’t stop the sadness welling up inside her, nor stop her cheeks from heating up in embarrassment knowing that the whole of Lestrade’s division had been witness to the scene. All of this and more welled up inside her, and yet even in all of her anger towards Lestrade all she wanted was for him to hold her.

“Yes.” Lestrade confirmed, not knowing how to cross the ocean of tension that separated the two of them in that moment. He didn’t know how to fix this. His arms ached for her, yet his legs were leaden weights, unmoving in the face of what emotions she must feel for him. Lestrade doubted she could love him now.

“Now I know why everyone looks to us so queerly when we are together. They can’t help but think: Why would he have a plain, little nobody like Miss. Hooper when he could have the likes of Rebecca Rothschilde?” Molly laughed self-deprecatingly to herself. It all seemed obvious to her now, but Lestrade wished he could erase those feelings from her mind.

“No! That’s not how it is at all, you must believe me.” He begged her.

“I wish I could.” Molly looked in the direction of where he stood, unseeing, then down at the forgotten fish and chips laying ignored on his desk. “I came not just to deliver you lunch but to ask if you would like to come to dinner tonight.” She met his eyes this time when she turned around to face him, Lestade nodded to this eagerly, his silver bangs bouncing up and down with the movement, Molly would have laughed at the pathetic figure he cut, if she had the strength to notice. Right now she was fighting to keep her composure until she was out of the precinct. “I will give you a choice sir,” Molly met his eyes, with a face that was too serious for Lestrade’s liking. “If you show up to my home for dinner at 8 o’clock, I will know you have chosen me, but if you do not show I will know that you have either chosen her again, or that you simply do not love me and I will content myself to spinsterhood as before. And I will once again look to you as someone who stumbles into my home to work with Sherlock alongside my father and we will pretend that this mockery of an affair never happened at all.” Molly concluded her speech with a sob running out of the room opening the door and swinging it so that it shut behind her retreating form.

“Molly wait!” Lestrade tried to run after her but the door slammed shut before he could reach it. He wrenched it open and called after her. “Molly, love, please let me explain!” But she was gone, only the stunned faces of the officers of his division stared back at him. He growled deep inside his chest. “IF I HEAR ONE WORD OF WHAT TOOK PLACE AROUND THIS OFFICE TODAY I WILL FIRE THE FIRST PERSON THAT SPEAKS!” At this the officers bustled into action, to look busy more than actually doing something. Lestrade slammed the door shut and slammed his fist against it once, violently. He rest his head on the glass wishing he had the power to rewind the entire day and start over again. He pushed away from the door and crossed the room, letting his body fall into his chair sullenly. How could he possibly fix this now? He looked through the hood of his fingers to see Miss. Donovan quietly come into the room bearing a tea cup, filled with what he hoped wasn’t just tea. He took the cup and saucer from her with a grateful smile and sipped it, ah, she added a splash of brandy to it, now he would be able to think better. Donovan went about the office pushing aside the papers, noting the forms he would need more of, since he stained the ones he had been working on and laid them aside with fresh copies she removed from his filing cabinet, and pushed them all aside laying out the fish and chips in front of him.

“That was a bit not good wasn’t it, sir?” Miss. Donovan questioned. Lestrade lifted an eyebrow at her audacity, reminding her with a stern face that he said for no one to speak of it. In the face of his grouchiness, she simply gestured to the food in front of him, willing him to eat. He began to reluctantly, barely tasting his favorite fish and chips. It might as well have been sawdust he was eating. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She looked to him only once seriously, and at his nod went back to pretending not to be trying to force food on him. He appreciated how she was so over-protective of him but he really did question hiring her as a favor to her now dearly departed father, who had been one of the few men of color on the Scotland Yard team at the time, cut down in the line of duty. He hired her to give her a way to support herself after he died, so that she would be able to live a comfortable life. He offered to just give her an allowance but he father would not allow it saying that her strong-willed nature needed occupation, and he swore to give her a position on his staff as the man uttered his last breath. Now she was his secretary and was much too keen on taking care of him while at work in his opinion. She looked up to him much in the same way she admired her father, it was an honor to be thought of so highly, but today did little to reflect well on her estimation of him.

“You know Donovan your position here is entirely at my discretion, I wouldn’t push my buttons right now.” He threatened as he nibbled at the now merely warm fish and chips. They were slowly losing their heat and with it so was his appetite. Miss. Donovan simply encouraged him to continue to eat, she practically forced the food into his mouth with her own hand.

“Oh I know that sir, but it would be a shame to waste such good fish and chips, especially when that poor girl came her to hand deliver them to you.” Donovan concluded popping a chip into her mouth for emphasis. “Real good fish and chips, sir.” Donovan smiled cheekily.

“Oi! Those are mine!” Lestrade groused watching her steal a chip from him. He pulled the food away from her grasp defensively, finally eating heartily at the meal to her satisfaction, leaving only a few cold chips behind. Once he finished she removed the trash from his desk as well as the teacup, before she could turn away he spoke up. “What am I going to do, Sally? How am I going to fix this?” He agonized burying his head in his hands.

“I don’t know how to tell you to fix your problem sir, but telling the truth is always a good start.” Sally suggested, with a look indicating she knew he wasn’t entirely open with Molly about his past during the whole of their relationship up to that point. “The poor girl doesn’t know the history between you and that cat-eyed devil woman.” Miss. Donovan stated, moving to leave. “Well I’ll leave you to your paperwork sir, better be getting back to my desk.” She smiled to him opening the door.

“Thank you, Sally.” He called to her retreating form. Sally turned her hand still on the doorknob.

“You’re welcome sir, just give a shout if you need anything, yeah?” She suggested with a smile, at his wave of agreement she closed the door walking out to the office. The rest of the division looked to her and at the solemn shake of her head they groaned, realizing how really not good the situation appeared. That the boss was mad, and he might once again be the grumpy bear of a boss that he had been before he and the future Mrs. Lestrade had gotten together. They all hoped as a group that this didn’t come to pass.

Lestrade was lucky for the lack of interruptions and completed the paperwork he needed to until at five o’clock, Lieutenant Jones knocked on his door regretfully. “Sorry to disturb you sir, but we have a domestic, south bank side.” Lestrade cursed seeing the time.

“Alright Jonesy, lead the way!” Lestrade grumbled grabbing his coat. Great, another murder, it was just the thing to top off this terrible day. He just hoped that whatever this was could be finished within a few hours. He needed to make dinner at Molly’s on time tonight. It was an imperative that he meet this ultimatum if he was going to save their engagement and future marriage. If he didn’t, he knew there was no possible way of fixing it, as he made his way to the murder scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm bit cliffy the hanging end of that chapter weren't it? Don't worry I promise to keep on trudging through the story, even though my life is so crazy I have no knowing if I'll continue it tomorrow or the day after that and so on. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the confrontation and hate Lestrade's ex-wife as much as I do. WHO COULD POSSIBLY BE STUPID ENOUGH TO TURN AWAY THIS HUNK OF GORGEOUSNESS I HAVE NO FREAKING CLUE??!?!?!?! WHO I TELL YOU WHO??!?!?! Okay... vocal love for Lestrade (and Rupert Graves) over with... I am a calm little center of the universe once again.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	14. Reconciliations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Lestrade has put his foot in it. Molly is mad and the ring comes off. 
> 
> But is this the end for our couple? Can our Silver Fox heal the breech and mend Molly's hurt feelings before it's too late? 
> 
> Will he finally confess to her the shades of his past?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the process of moving, I realized that I will be without internet during the transfer from one house to the other, and I don't know when the next time I will have the internet will be unless I run out to a coffee shop that has wi-fi once I get to PA and post a big chuck of this story all at once.
> 
> This move is really chaffing my style and my writing man. But thank goodness, I don't need the internet to write, just to post and listen to Spotify, and stream Sherlock on Netflix, and you know everything else I want to do. *shudder* I'm trying not to think about it, my mother had to stop me from hyperventilating. 
> 
> Moving on... Another installment hot off the presses!! Hope you like it!!! Oh and we're almost at chapter 15, you know what that means!!! The next new person to comment before I post the 15th chapter gets a present from me!!! Who shall it be?
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 14**

**Reconciliations**

 

\---

 

_Hooper Residence, Monday Evening_

_Early Summer, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

If the world was indeed a perfect place, our Detective Inspector would find himself wrapped up at the murder scene and at the door of the Hooper Residence the second the mantle clock in their dining room chimed eight. Then all of those pesky prickly declarations of Rebecca Rothschilde that had been rolling around in Molly’s head would have been entirely forgotten. However this was not meant to be, never for a man who’s career depended entirely upon the law and wherever, whenever crime showed up. Molly watched as the clock ticked away on the mantle piece, eating what little she could. Her father and Aunt Evelyn had more than enough chatter about the upcoming wedding to occupy themselves. Though if both sister and brother turned to their niece and daughter, looking to her nervously as she didn’t partake of the conversation that centered entirely around her and her knight, Molly paid little attention to them. She was too busy staring into her half-eaten food forlornly, and looking to the empty chair beside her, fighting off tears.

It wasn’t until half-past eight, that the bell cord was pulled at their door and the bell chimed announcing the arrival of their missing dinner companion, Molly’s fiancé. Dr. Hooper wiped at his mouth, excitedly, ready to welcome the man of the hour with equanimity. That was until Molly stood abruptly, she threw her napkin onto her plate indelicately and stormed off not in the direction of the door but of the parlor.

“Where are you going?!” Dr. Hooper questioned, as Bessie made her way to the front door to let the poor Detective Inspector in, who for a man that was soon to be happily married, looked terribly contrite.

“I’m going down to the labs, its in need of organizing!” Molly called back as she opened the door leading to the stairs down to the labs.

“But, little dove, Gregory is here, your fiancé! Don’t you want to see him?” Dr. Hooper questioned following after her.

“NO I MOST CERTAINLY DO NOT!” Molly shouted, in a half-sob and half-angry wail from down the stairs, Dr. Hooper winced as he heard the tell-tale banging and carrying on in his labs that meant his daughter was in a strop. The only recourse for her anger was an entire reorganization of his lab, until the anger was worked out of her system, however this spelt doom for Dr. Hooper’s many experiments and the current piles of papers he was working on. A reorganization of his clutter such as this would set him back weeks and weeks.

“What have you done to my daughter?!” Dr. Hooper accused walking into the dining room to see Lestrade sitting in the chair beside Aunt Evelyn who was trying to comfort him. The man looked entirely distraught near the point of miserable tears himself. He, for all those that could see how pathetic he appeared, looked like a love sick puppy that was kicked while he was already down.

“I can explain everything. Please sir, have pity on me.” Lestrade begged standing up to begin pacing the room alternating between wiping at his face and hair.

“Well someone had better! Right now, my daughter is making a neat little disaster of my shambles of a lab and destroying all of my good work. I think that deserves a very good explanation man, now sit down and calm yourself. Evelyn dear, would you see to Molly?” Dr. Hooper pleaded. “Get her side of the story, and see if you can get her to stop reorganizing my already neat clutter.” Dr. Hooper begged to Aunt Evelyn’s retreating form.

“I don’t know where to start, Samuel.” Lestrade groaned putting his head in his hands, Dr. Hooper moved to the sideboard and poured the man a bracing shot of whiskey.

“Well why don’t you start from the beginning? Or at least explain the reason why my daughter came home after, from what I heard was, a delightful morning with her new friend Mary and her Aunt completely distraught and brimming with tears.” Dr. Hooper looked to Lestrade as he began to fill up a plate of food for the over-wrought man. The younger gentleman might not be inclined to eat right away but he would eat eventually, and the poor boy seemed too emotional at the moment to even think straight.

“Well… Are you sure you want to hear this sir? It isn’t a pretty story.” Lestrade warned and at Dr. Hooper’s wave of permission, he took in a bracing breath. “My divorced wife came to my office today…” He went through the whole affair, the man that would be his father-in-law listened carefully but had to step away from the table when Lestrade told him of what his ex-wife said to Molly. “…Molly was completely upset, not that I blame her for being so, but she must understand I love her so completely it hurts. To know that she doesn’t want to see me now…” Lestrade looked forlornly to the door that lead to the parlor and down to the labs.

“But I don’t understand why she claims she doesn’t want to see you.” Dr. Hooper was entirely confused, missing a piece of the puzzle obviously. “She kept on calling for you like all she wanted was for you to be with her, but when I begged her to let me fetch you she refused.” Dr. Hooper shook his head, he did noticed the look of pained contrition that appeared on the young man’s face when he let slip the trials as her father that he had faced earlier in the day. “Yet when it was time for dinner, she appeared before her Aunt and I, completely calm, until just before.” Dr. Hooper was aghast as to his daughter’s behavior, finding himself entirely lost for an explanation.

“She gave me an ultimatum Samuel. I was to appear for dinner at eight o’clock on the nose and everything would be fine. If I didn’t she said she would know that I choose my ex-wife or she would know that I don‘t want to marry her, which I can tell you sir both of those ideas are equally abhorrent to me. I want to spend my life with her, how can I make her see that? I was held up at a case, it was open and shut but I couldn’t get away from the clean up to come here. I tried. Now I doubt she wants to marry me at all. What am I to do?” Lestrade swiped at his chest as if his heart physically pained him.

“Now, now, take a minute and compose yourself, my boy. There’s nothing here that can not be fixed. You’re still going to marry my daughter I can promise you that. You and I will stay here in the dining room like decent fellows should when women are upset and we’ll let her Aunt Evelyn sort her out.” Dr. Hooper laughed at the Detective Inspector’s expense despite the slightly hurt look he gave the doctor. “Now don’t be like that. Here having something to eat.” The Doctor said pushing the plate towards Lestrade.

“I don’t know if I could eat at this moment, sir.” Lestrade looked forlornly down at the delicious looking food, if Molly came to him or if he could speak to Molly, he could get his appetite back. He had been so hungry before too, now his stomach was in knots with nerves.

“Enough of this ‘sir’ business, I told you to call me Samuel boy. Well, if you can’t eat at least drink something, and try to eat even a little bit, it’ll settle your stomach.” Dr. Hooper suggested returning to his plate while he pretended not to be interested in the door behind the Detective Inspector looking for movement. He only hoped that whatever was wrong would be resolved between the couple soon so that peace would reign once again.

 

\---

 

As Evelyn Hooper climbed down the iron stairs that lead to the labs, she never thought she’d see the sight before her as her niece bashed around the lab, throwing autopsy instruments in the sink to be cleaned, gathering up piles of books that were then jammed back into bookshelves, specimens moved around and lined up on shelves. Molly was working herself up into a frenzy. With her back turned, Molly could not tell who had entered the space and growled at the intrusion. “Go away Lestrade I never want to see you again!” Molly said with a great sob.

“Now that’s a lie and we both know it!” Evelyn laughed at Molly’s silly behavior. When she gasped and turned around, Molly proudly wiped at her tears hoping her Aunt hadn’t noticed she had been crying. She failed miserably as the tears flowed from her eyes without being controlled. Molly stomped her foot in frustration which only made her cry even harder. “Oh now, there’s no need to hide those tears from me, why don’t we have a seat, er… somewhere and talk about this.” Aunt Evelyn looked around the lab dubiously finding no place to sit that was clean enough for the current purple costume she was wearing. Molly laughed at her Aunt’s fastidious attitude towards the basement laboratories, moving to sit on the stairs after placing clean linens down for her Aunt and herself to sit on. She sat on a lower stair to put her head comfortingly in her Aunt’s lap, her long hair being stroked aside by her Aunt in soothing repetitive motions.

“I’m sorry for creating such a fuss Aunt Evelyn.” This self-chastisement brought a fresh wave of tears with a sob that bubbled out of her as a morose sigh.

“Now, none of that, you’re a bride-to-be you have the right to at least one strop. Now why don’t you explain to me what happened to start it, and why your father sent me down here instead of going himself, he seemed downright terrified of you.”

“He’s only worried about the state of his laboratory. He likes his messiness to stay exactly the way it is, everywhere.” Molly pouted looking to the lab that looked only a bit tidied up.

“That may be so but he is worried about you, and I must say your fiancé looked positively awful. I’m sure your father is plying him with drink as we speak.” Her Aunt encouraged Molly’s empathy to take hold, glad that it did.

“He did?” Molly looked up to her Aunt with wide, teary eyes.

“Yes he did.” Evelyn confirmed sagely wiping at her niece’s tears with her handkerchief. “Now please dear, I’m not a psychic. Explain what on earth happened between you two."

“Nothing happened between us, its more of a question of who.” Molly explained resting her head back in her Aunt’s lap. At her Aunt’s confirming ‘oh,’ Molly broke out into a tearful explanation of the whole affair, from catching Lestrade in an embrace he didn’t seem to want from his ex-wife, to the hateful words Rebecca spouted and concluded with the ultimatum she gave Lestrade. Throughout the story, Aunt Evelyn listened without comment which was hard for her as someone who loved to comment upon stories as they were told. But this time she withheld her gregarious nature in favor of comforting her precious niece. “I came home in tears, the words Rebecca had said struck a cord within me Aunt Evelyn. And now, here he shows up late and expects me to just forgive him of it all.” Molly said angrily swiping at the few fresh tears that had fallen during her retelling of the awful afternoons she had.

“That Rebecca Rothschilde is such an evil wench. I knew she would try something like this!” Aunt Evelyn announced with a feminine growl, stomping her foot.

“Y-you did?” Molly questioned in surprise. She hadn’t known that her Aunt knew that woman so well.

“Oh she tried to play tricks on me in the tea room at Alamack’s after the evening of your engagement party.” Aunt Evelyn chuckled at the memory of Rebecca Rothschilde bustling from the room like a frightened cat. “She struck out at me and walked away smarting with a bruised ego. So she decided to hit us where it hurt, where she could get at you. Through Lestrade, the poor man. That Rebecca was out for blood today.” Aunt Evelyn shook her head wondering what the poor man had to deal with between his failed marriage and his ex-wife trying to ruin his new one.

“Well she succeeded.” She looked down to the ring on her finger. Molly pulled it off without a second thought placing it on the table.

“My Molly Mouse!” Aunt Evelyn exclaimed seeing the ring now not on her niece’s finger but on the table in front of them. There was no one who could place it back onto her finger except Lestrade. To do otherwise would spell doom for their future marriage. “You mustn’t do that! Don‘t let someone of Rebecca Rothschilde‘s ilk get the better of you!” She warned. When she looked down at Molly’s face she didn’t like the resolute expression she found there. “Are you sure this is the right decision dear? You love him!” Molly nodded forlornly.

“I do love him with all my heart. But I don’t want to hold onto something that wasn’t meant to be mine, I don’t know if he even wants to be married, if he‘s meant to be married. If Lestrade wants to marry me let him come and tell me that.” Molly declared stubbornly walking to face the bookshelf across the room.

“Well I will go and get him for you dear, if this is what you want,” at Molly’s determined nod Aunt Evelyn simply shook her head hoping Molly was making the right decisions in the face of the potential of losing Lestrade forever. “But let me give you this little bit of advice from an old woman to a young one. Men can not be given ultimatums, at least not ones that are without wiggle room, they’ll almost always miss their chance to prove themselves but still try to make it right in the end. At the very least give this poor struggling man a chance to make it right. I have a feeling he won’t disappoint you.” Evelyn Hooper left her niece facing away from the stairs and went up to retrieve the Detective Inspector. She just hoped that they could come together as a couple and make this right. Their entire future together depended upon this moment.

 

\---

 

Lestrade and Dr. Hooper had made it through a better part of the older man’s whiskey decanter in the half-hour they waited for Aunt Evelyn to reappear. Lestrade stood first looking to her with a mix of contrition and hopefulness. “Is she alright, Aunt Evelyn?” Lestrade questioned, looking to the older woman with a pathetic face. Evelyn took the man’s face between her hands, squishing his face together a bit so that he looked even more pathetically adorable than he had already.

“She’s no longer crying dear and I’ve calmed her down. Go to her, now and make this right. But I warn you not to take what you first see when you get down there at face value.” She concluded releasing the man and pushing him towards the door that lead to the parlor, he looked to her with a questioning gaze waiting for her to explain herself, but Aunt Evelyn didn’t. She simply took her seat and began to finish her meal. Aunt Evelyn looked up to see him still standing confused in the door way. “Well go on, and quickly before our dinner is completely ruined!” At the admonishment Lestrade sprung into action and proceeded down to the labs.

 

\---

 

Molly didn’t look up when she heard a second set of footsteps coming down the stairs. She merely pulled her arms tighter around herself, bracing herself for the worst. Lestrade moved into the room slowly with great trepidation not knowing what mood Molly would be in when he came to her. Her Aunt Evelyn didn’t explain enough for him to feel confident in her wanting to receive his attentions. When he looked to the table and saw her ring lying on the table, he heart constricted until it felt like he couldn’t breathe, ready to break. The very least he could do was apologize, he could start there. He just wished she would turn around and face him so that he might see her face.

“I am sorry for the pain my ex-wife has caused you, has caused both of us really. I daren‘t think that the damage she cause is somehow irreparable.” Lestrade spoke into the air, fingering the ring on the table. He couldn‘t pick it up unless it was to put it back on her finger, anything else felt too final. With the solitary ring resting on the table, it felt like an anchor, keeping him in her life, preventing her from drifting away out of his grasp. “I have no idea why she was there today, except to interrupt my life and cause me trouble. I know you don’t know her but will you at least trust me- let me at least assure you in this, when I say that Rebecca Rothschilde is the type of spoiled brat of a woman that if she doesn’t get her way will wreak havoc on all those around her until she does. I put her out of my mind long ago, long before we even signed the papers of our divorce and I promise you that when she kissed me it was completely unwanted and unwarranted, I gave her no indication that I even wanted her in that room today. I was about to remove her when she lunged. I know this offers little in way of explanation for my behavior. I know I have so much more to answer for than that.” He spoke the truth into the air, knowing the gaffe came from her not knowing about his previous marriage and the reason why he never spoke of his family. “Can you love a man that simply didn’t want to burden you with his troubles? It does little good to think of them and I have never wanted a fuss to be made over me, even by those that I love and care about.” Molly peered around her shoulder at him once curiously before turning back around just as swiftly, Lestrade noticed this, the side of his mouth turning up slightly. He still wasn’t forgiven yet, but there seemed to be hope. He took a step towards her. “I was a fool to think that I could get away from speaking the truth of the whole sordid affair to you. To keep you in the dark so long about my past was a terrible thing to do.” Lestrade accused of himself. Of this crime, Lestrade saw he was guilty.

“Yes it was!” Molly confirmed angrily turning around to face him, an angry blush appeared on the tops of her cheeks. Lestrade smiled finally getting her to face him. She might have been angry but Lestrade has never seen her look so beautiful. Her eyes, though tinged with anger, still appeared to him as they always did, filled with love for him. Greg couldn’t help the elation that fluttered delicately inside his chest.

“Can you marry a fool, Molly? Can you still love this old fool?” Lestrade begged stepping closer and closer towards Molly, she was looking everywhere but directly into his eyes.

“Maybe,” was her only nervous reply. Her hands were tiny defiant fists at her sides. She was refusing to let him get off easily. “You didn’t show up on time like I asked.” Her lithe form trembled, whether in anger or in trepidation Lestrade didn’t know.

“I know, and I am sorry for that, I was trapped at a case across town and couldn’t get away in time. The clean up took forever, I am sorry but I still showed.” He finally came into Molly’s space backing Molly up until her back met a bookshelf. Molly whimpered and shut her eyes fighting tears that were welling up inside her. “Molly I love you like I have never loved anyone else in my life, ever. Please say that you still want to marry me.” Molly shook her head, her eyes still firmly shut and whined, as if she was trying to contain the feelings that were bubbling inside her, like she wanted to restrain herself from saying exactly what he wanted to hear. “Why won’t you look at me?” Lestrade questioned brushing at her cheek gently with his fingertips, this caused Molly to blush, a moan unwillingly bubbling out from deep within her chest at his touch that she had been so desperate for.

“Because I’m still angry with you and if I do look at you, I’ll forgive you. I‘ll admit how much I love you and agree to still wanting to marry you.” Lestrade slotted her body against the firmness of his own, and reached out to grasp her jaw firmly in his hand.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Lestrade growled covering her lusty cry with a bruising kiss. He eased open her mouth under his own patient kisses and once his tongue worked its way inside, their tongues danced together, he groaned in delight from deep inside his chest. He feasted on her mouth, sating his hunger that had gone unanswered since that afternoon. When they parted for breath, Molly embraced him in a crushing hug, unwilling to let go. Lestrade hugged back just as fiercely, kissing her jaw and the side of her neck, burying his nose into her shoulder and pulling nourishment from the smell of her skin. He shushed her with soft murmurs into her ear when her body shook with relieved sobs, his hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly.

“I’m sorry.” Molly whispered, tangling her fingers into his silver hair.

“I’m sorry too,” Lestrade pulled away to look into her eyes as he said this, and at the look they shared, he knew he was forgiven. “I want to explain everything to you, and I will, I promise. There is something I want to show you on Sunday. Allow me to tell you then?” Lestrade looked into her eyes pleadingly. At her nod he sighed against her lips in relief, sealing their pact with a kiss. He pulled away and they shared a smile, her fingers smoothed the soft silvery hair at his temples.

“And we’ll never hide from each other ever again.” Molly declared with a teasing smile. Glad that once again everything was fine between them.

“It's a deal, my lovely girl.” He agreed with a chuckle and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Now may I put her ring back on my fiancée?” Lestrade groused. At Molly’s encouraging nod, Lestrade retrieved the lonesome ring and slipped it back onto her finger. He rubbed his thumbs across her hand and pulled Molly into his embrace for one last kiss.

“Let’s go finish supper.” Molly giggled when Lestrade’s stomach relaxed enough to growl, spoiling the moment. At Lestrade’s excited grumble he nodded, letting her lead the way out of the dungeon-like labs.

When the couple arrived back at the table, Aunt Evelyn and Dr. Hooper sighed in relief seeing the two as happy as they had ever been. They sat down and ate as if nothing had occurred to spoil the evening. Lestrade seemed absolutely ravenous, and explained that he had eaten her fish and chips too long ago and couldn’t eat anything else until they had come back up from the labs.

Upon hearing that even though they had fought, her Greg still ate the fish and chips she brought him, Molly looked to him adoringly, and kissed him. When her father objected to this kissing business over the dinner table, Molly simply stood and kissed him on the head declaring that it was time for tea and dessert in the sitting room anyway.

The group laughed and the rest of the evening was concluded just as effortlessly. Lestrade was at ease when he left for the night but not without a few deep, stolen kisses in the hallway promising that she would hear of everything she wanted to know on Sunday. He promised that anything she asked he would answer. He leaned down over her hand at the door and kissed her hand. He determined with a sly wink that after this weekend he would fail to be the mysterious man she fell in love with, that she might not want him after all and walked away. Molly looked forward to finally seeing all of Lestrade, his deepest parts. She looked forward to all of the shades and tints coming together to complete the image of the man she was going to marry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew that was a bit emotional. Lestrade almost had me on that one. He was so contrite and so lovely, his words choked me up a little bit as I was writing them down. I hope you forgive him as much as Molly has. 
> 
> The next chapter will contain the saga of his past so It might be a tad longer again like one of my past chapters. I'll keep up the pace I hope before things get too out of control and I lose all hope out in redneck land. I think my only comfort while I'm out there will be the glories of the nature around me (sans spiders) and my writing. And comments and kudos from all of you lovely people on here of course!!! I have a few one shotters brewing, and other things I've been working on like the Drabbletron series so don't worry there are other things coming as well. Lots to look forward to!!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	15. The Estranged Family & Failed Marriage of Our Detective Inspector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We will now find out the truth behind the stories that Gregory Reginald Lestrade, about his family, engagement, marriage, divorce and what he was unwilling to tell Molly Hooper. What will he reveal? Why did his family estrange him? Why does he never speak of his siblings or his parents? All Molly knows are rumors, how will she react when she knows the truth?
> 
> What will Molly learn of his marriage to Rebecca? How did he come to marry someone like Rebecca Rothschilde? Was it love? Was it arranged? 
> 
> Find out..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this before but as I was fixing it up to post, the whole window just closed on me inexplicably and I just couldn't continue out of frustration. 
> 
> This chapter is so long, I was at around 100 pages before and it jumped like almost to 50 before i was finished. Wow. Sooo yeah. I'm well on my way through the next chapter too so give me a little bit because I also have some other stuff and the move... You people have all been so lovely and patient with me so I'm not worried in the least.
> 
> I promised you all SIlver Fox Feels and I deliver!!! :]
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 15**

**The Estranged Family & Failed Marriage of Our Detective Inspector**

 

\---

 

_Sunday Morning, St. James the Less_

_Early Summer, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

Sunday came and with it the day that Molly was to hear of the story of the Detective Inspector’s past. While she was looking forward to it the man behind the story was less certain as he fixed his necktie out in front of the church for the hundredth time. He was a ball of nerves wound tightly upon waiting for Aunt Evelyn’s coach that would deliver the two ladies to the church. Once again he found himself at church waiting for his lady fair to appear. He was never a regular church-frequenter before and it was entirely Molly’s doing. He watched the congregation members of the church begin to arrive, nodding to those that greeted him from afar, shaking hands of those that wanted to talk to him, listening to them speak of the riots, accepting their thanks for his duty to London, and with a gulp Lestrade excused himself seeing the familiar horse drawn carriage appear.

Once the coach pulled up he waved the driver from stepping down and received the ladies himself, accepting a kiss in greeting from his future Aunt. When Molly took his hand he pulled her from the carriage steps into his arms and kissed Molly soundly upon the mouth. She had basically alighted from the carriage, straight into his arms. Her toes didn’t touch the ground until he lowered her down. When Molly opened her eyes, her dazed expression warmed Lestrade’s insides.

“Hullo.” Molly said with a smile that slowly grew across her face, she looked to her Aunt who had a knowing smile on her face and Molly remembered herself slowly coming down to reality. He answered in kind placing a dainty gloved hand inside his elbow. She took Lestrade’s arm with both hands ignoring the onlookers that had witnessed his affectionate display. “To do what do I owe the pleasure for such a warm welcome?” Molly questioned him looking up to his nervous face. She squeezed at his arm under the many layers of clothing, it was meant to be encouraging but she blushed upon feeling that it wasn’t layers of clothes that bulged under the suit Lestrade was currently wearing but his own muscular form, as he wore a summer suit of thinner material. For it being Sunday, Molly’s thoughts about the Detective Inspector were decidedly unchaste. As they walked through the doors of the church, she avoided the knowing gaze of the pastor entirely as Lestrade cleared his throat and nodded to the older man.

“I apologize for before,” the progression of the congregation was halted as those members of the church were lost to conversation and were taking their seats, giving Molly and Lestrade an opportunity to talk. “I was anxious to see you. I’m nervous about today to tell you about my life before I knew you.” Lestrade confessed his feelings to her.

“Why would you have reason to be nervous, Greg?” Molly questioned with a raised eyebrow. “I love you, I‘m absolutely madly in love with you. There is nothing that you can say that will scare me away, there’s nothing you can not share with me. I know you were protecting me before but truly it wasn’t necessary.” Molly dimpled to him knowingly.

“I know, but if you know the whole affair, will you love me still?” Lestrade questioned warily. He knew that the story, while in his favor didn’t bear well upon him as a man in marriage with a woman, even if that woman wasn’t Molly. “Will you still want to marry me if you know the truth?”

“We’re in church, darling,” Molly observed in a whisper taking a seat as the church quieted down to begin the service. “At the very least, you should have faith in me.” Molly whispered pulling at Lestrade’s elbow and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. The music swelled, the service began and Molly watched Lestrade’s features digested what she had said before she gave her undivided attention to the hymn being sung. She hadn’t noticed the changing expressions of Lestrade’s face as his mind mulled this all over, battling with his affections.

It was something he hadn’t considered before, having faith in the love that they shared. As the pastor began preaching from the pulpit, speaking of honesty, the honest man, the honest farmer, how it was harder to avoid sin in the city, on and on the man droned. Lestrade considered that since his divorce he wasn’t a man who put his faith in the women around him. Had Rebecca Rothschilde wounded him that deeply that he had forgotten to put his faith in the one woman that mattered to him now? He looked down to Molly who looked back to him beatifically, brown eyes sparkling up at him. Lestrade smiled back, Molly noted his warm, deep brown eyes relaxing finally, all the nerves from before leaving him with that one smile.

He knew now that it was easy to say that he loved her. The feeling was a very easy thing for him to admit, but it was another matter entirely to put his trust and faith in the feelings that they shared. Something he had never consciously questioned or considered before, and why should he not put his faith in Molly? Lestrade thought that those feelings would have come to him as naturally as his love did. His fiancée had never let him down before. There was no one who you could put your faith in better than Molly Hooper. That kind of faith is the sole reason that Lestrade still found himself chasing after the ghost of Sherlock Holmes and he was still flesh and bones, still alive. He could see Sherlock now rolling his eyes at him at the obvious conclusion he had come to, but really were emotions ever that easy to see? From now on, he would trust that no matter what he said to Molly, no matter what happened before they were together, he would put his faith in the love they had for each other, that she had for him. That no matter what came between them, or that they faced in this world, his love would be returned. He gave himself a slap inside his head, of course Molly would return his love, the thought seemed silly now. With this reasoning Lestrade bent his head to listen to the congregation respond to the prayers being said. It was a freeing realization, something he had not considered before, thinking the faith bit something that came easily with the love that swelled inside his chest for Molly Hooper. Apparently, for Lestrade it did not after being divorced. But those wounds were slowly being healed under Molly’s patient touch. With those simple words, Molly had put faith back into the Detective Inspector.

After services, he waited outside for Molly and Aunt Evelyn to discuss the wedding date with the pastor, it was the Hooper family church so it was a natural choice, Lestrade not being a man too deep of faith himself. Molly came out with a smile upon her face, and confirmed the date of their wedding with a kiss Lestrade easily returned. Aunt Evelyn followed behind and ‘ahemed’ to break up the happy couple’s er… celebration.

“Well now that that’s taken care of I believe I shall leave you two love birds to have the rest of the day to yourselves.” Her Aunt announced and kissed Molly on both cheeks. For once Molly looked completely comfortable standing next to her eventual husband, just like any woman should look when standing next to her intended. Lestrade looked equally relaxed.

“Oh no! Aunt Evelyn please, let us go out to brunch as usual.” Lestrade grumbled in protest, he really did enjoy the woman and her open nature.

“No, no! I will only be in the way, and you both need time alone together, besides I have already confirmed brunch today with several of my own friends. So I shan’t be missed and will have plenty to occupy don’t worry about me!” She kissed Lestrade on the cheek and accepted a kiss from Lestrade in return as well as from Molly. With her farewells, the couple waved as her carriage left, leaving Molly and Lestrade to themselves.

Alone at last, Lestrade placed her hand once again in his elbow and squeezed it affectionately. They slowly made their way to a nearby café and took in a small repast before making their way to Regents Park, they talked very little during this time, hand-holding and loving looks speaking for words that didn’t need to be said. Once they made their way inside Regents Park, they strolled passed the family’s with playing children running around the lake and continued to stroll until the crowds thinned, Lestrade tipping his dove grey bowler hat to passing couples and gentlemen taking their Sunday strolls through the park. Once they reached a less well-traveled section of the park, Molly pulled Lestrade to a bench, taking a seat. Lestrade following her lead taking the seat beside her. Now that they were seated, the sun obscured by the trees above them, it seemed to be the perfect time to begin his tale, yet Lestrade was unsure of how to begin.

“So…” Molly began breaking the awkward bubble before the silence could prevail up them.

“So.” Lestrade confirmed looking to the bit of pond that lay across the path from them, ducks diving below the surface of the water as mother ducks guided their babies across the pond, teaching them to swim this quieter bit of water before going over to the busier lake at the other end of the park. Birds twittered, bees buzzed, the whole park seemed to hum with elation as the spring breezes gave way to the lazy fresh heat of early summer. Lestrade plucked a nearby daisy from its spot beside the bench and handed the flower to Molly which she accepted, sniffing at the flower with a coquettish smile. He watched her with a crooked smile, her flirtations lightening the atmosphere around them to match that of the scenery around them. “I hardly know where to begin, there’s so much of my past I have to tell you.” Lestrade said honestly. He might as well start from the day he was born and continue onward.

“Well I believe you’re the third son. Are you the youngest in your family?” Molly encouraged him to begin the tale with questions she had that had yet to be answered.

“Second youngest, though it was a while before they had my youngest sister.” Lestrade stated matter-of-factly. It wouldn’t do any good to continue to stall. “I suppose I’ll start with my parents…”

\---

Greg dove into his tale from his birth, starting from the beginning, for to understand why he became married to someone so devoid of everything proper and of any proper feeling as Rebecca Rothschilde it was imperative that Molly acquaint herself with the ways of his family. Ways that were not his own. He was born Gregory Reginald Lestrade, to Maxwell Tiberius Lestrade the First and his mother was Rosalind Annette Lestrade but she came from a family by the name of Thatcher. His father could have the pick of any woman he chose and chose well in his mother, whose family were of country landed gentry but had made their way in trade a few generations before his mother had been born. The family of Thatcher had not been gentry for as long and as wealthy as his father’s family. This alone should have made her below the notice of a man as wealthy and from a family as powerful as Maxwell Tiberius Lestrade the First. However, Maxwell Lestrade had been the only son to Greg’s grandparents and therefore could marry any woman of his choosing. His father’s parents had died when his father was just out of college, so the man had been free to act of his own accord and married Rosalind.

The marriage was a love match. A very unusual union to have taken place at the time, but the Lestrade Manor blossomed under their love, becoming one of the most powerful families along side the likes of Darcy, and the Rothschildes. At the mention of the family name of his ex-wife, Molly began to see a little bit the life into which Lestrade had been born. His parents love was a steadfast one bearing up against many hardships. It had been difficult for his mother to conceive at the beginning of their marriage, losing several babies before his siblings were born, Europe constantly in and out of turmoil, loss of her brothers during the fighting overseas, and their lack of children being a source of gossip for the London ton. His mother was only eighteen when they married, compared to his father’s age of eight and twenty. The lack of children warred within his mother, weakening her spirit, but his father’s strength would not let her fade away, he supported her steadfastly, showered her with love and affection. The gentleman even paraded his wife around at parties in front those that doubted he would still love her if the family was childless, all of this bolstered his wife’s spirit.

Ten years it took before his eldest brother Maxwell Tiberius the Second was born, to endless celebrations, though his mother fought to have him almost dying in childbirth. After that first pregnancy, the rest seemed to come easy for his parents. Annette Marie was born only two years later, and in another two years his second eldest brother Timothy Joseph was born. The three of them were together thick as thieves for three years before their parents got word that they were again expecting, and this time Greg himself came into the world. Their prettiest child by far.

“It was like I had broken up their party.” Lestrade recalled anecdotes of him chasing after his three older siblings at three years old, trying to take apart in their games but being too little for his siblings that were already children, no longer toddlers. While he looked up to his brothers and sister, they viewed him as a burden, bothered by the whiny insufferableness that a toddler could be and not having the developed patience it required to deal with him.

Gregory was five when his mother gave birth to Marie Antoinette. “I was immediately fascinated by her, and took to being her protector. She was such a delicate, squabbling little thing.” Lestrade chuckled his eyes far away with memories. He had wanted to treat the infant better than his own siblings had treated him, his sense of right and wrong was strong even at so young an age. He thought of his little sister fondly, even now. They had been steadfast to one another through everything, and even now he wrote to her when he could but communication was difficult. She had married a man that saw profit in the freshly conquered South Africa, and had moved her there with him. He got a letter every Christmas now, always assuring him to relief that she was indeed happy, in the bosom of her husbands and two children. He was happy for her but still missed seeing his younger sister. She had taken his side in the divorce, unlike the rest of his siblings. “A few months after Marie was born, that was when the divide started.” Lestrade announced coldly, not liking the way his family’s life laid from then on out.

Timothy, called Little Timmy then, was a sickly boy. He took easily to colds, his body not being able to resist against being sick. If he got caught in the rain, while out riding, he would have sniffles and a fever the next day. He was so weak it was easy for him to contract more serious illnesses and there was an outbreak of scarlet fever that year. Their mother, a generous and gregarious woman, had always gone to visit the local poor, often using the occasions to spend time with her older children each individually, to teach them the importance of caring for the poor on their land how it was their responsibility as part of the upper classes to see to the welfare of those who found themselves astray.

It had been Timothy’s turn that fateful day. She had warned him to stay in the carriage, bravely going into the sick homes herself to see after the rest of the family and ease the suffering of those that were sick, but he always was a curious lad and wanted to see inside the cabin, ignorant of the knowledge that the shack was filled with disease. She pulled him back to the carriage and shortly after hastened home to the manor but unfortunately the English weather being what it always is, they encountered a downpour. They acted fast in warming him and tending to getting him dry, but it was too late. Little Timmy had caught scarlet fever.

There had also been a cold among the children, Lestrade had caught it. In his weakened state, his parents had worried he would be vulnerable to the fever and they also worried for the health of their newborn daughter, babies being the most vulnerable to the disease. The entire staff was torn between seeing to poor Timothy, or himself and Marie. In the boy’s weakened state, the doctor had declared that Timothy would not make it through the night. One of the maids having seen a home remedy from years before was able to draw the fever down from his head, but the poor lad continued to weaken and very slowly slipped away in the night while they were all seeing to Greg and Marie. Lestrade only remembers hearing the wailing sobs of his mother echoing through the manor. “Max and my father were the only ones by Timmy’s bedside.” Lestrade sighed in recollection. Molly assured him that it wasn’t his fault. “I know but that didn’t stop Maxwell from blaming me. Little Timmy was his favorite. Timmy was everyone’s favorite, always of such a sweet friendly nature. Max was his hero and Max loved having a younger boy there to look up to him like that, and I was too young to fill the leftover void. Timmy had always brought out the good in Max too, he had not always been so terrible.” Maxwell had spent the next several years before he went sent to college making Greg pay for being ill that fateful night. Anytime an accident occurred, he blamed Greg, he stole food from Greg’s plate at supper, twisted his arm until he would scream so the maids would take him away and punish him. Greg only found peace when there was distance between himself and Maxwell. He wrote to his brother during the separation, still wanting to have a brother he could look up to, but Maxwell never wrote back filled permanently with anger and resentment thinking Greg as nothing but a spot to be wiped away out of his life. Maxwell returned several years after college a grown man and Lestrade himself was a young lad ready to be an adult.

By that time, his father had taken to drinking in his grief yet over Timmy, being a favorite of his parents. But Maxwell was the one to inherit and worked alongside of his father as an associate rather than as a cherished son. While he was learning how to run the manor and care for its tenants, Maxwell wielded his authoritative power over Greg and Marie mercilessly, often telling untruths of wrongdoings to his father that he never questioned, letting his son dole out punishment. There were nights when Lestrade went to bed hungry and Max had also been quite abusive towards his youngest sister, commenting and correcting her so much that she was terrified of him, almost becoming a semi-permanent mute in the process. Lestrade did his best to comfort and defend her but this only earned him thrashings from Max and discipline from his parents. The rift caused tension in the household and Greg did his best to avoid Max whenever possible but their fights in the Manor were legendary.

His parents relationship continued despite the tension caused by Max but the death of their brother did put a strain on the relationship, his father’s death came shortly after Greg was off to college at the age of nineteen. The grief had torn his father down in the end, causing him to drink himself to death. It was just another way for Max to despise Greg, citing him as the cause as well. He escaped back to Oxford as soon as the funeral was over, his sister Marie was still trapped at home at the age of fourteen, sequestered in their London townhouse with their mother, away from her home and all that she knew. This left the manor to the influence of Max and his new wife Margret, whom Lestrade had learned in a letter from his mother Max has married while Greg was at Oxford. Lestrade would never again go back to the family manor, or its land. Annette had married by then as well, a weak-willed and malleable man by the name of Marcus St.John LeFonteroy. They had made their way to America, where they found their successes, profiting from the Reconstruction of the South. Annette wrote later to Greg after he was with Rebecca that she had found their brother just as oppressive but only found peace because he favored her. They made amends but never did establish a relationship that was anything except mildly cordial.

Upon returning from his European tour, Lestrade was still without any sort of occupation, unheard of for the third son but by then found the law appealing but with no patience to be sitting behind a desk as a lawyer. Not to mention the wigs, and ridiculous theater of the British courtroom. Neither Molly nor himself could see him playing the part of barrister. He needed the excitement and action of Scotland Yard and was well on his way as an Lieutenant Inspector, using his family name to climb up the ranks quickly. However he lacked the presence of a charming wife that would advance his career the rest of the way to the success he had now. It was then that he was living in the townhouse with his Mother and Marie, who was delighted to have her big brother back, he was three and twenty by then. He lived like that with his mother for a few years until Marie was married to Nathaniel Graveston at the age of three and twenty.

Greg then found himself at eight and twenty with no wife and all of his other siblings married off. “That was when my brother came to visit.” Lestrade groused remembering the day Max had moved into the townhouse for the season. He deviously inquired after Greg’s marital status and his mother insisted that it be taken care of. “I was introduced to several women like a racehorse out to stud and found no one appealing, and I hated all those dances, being introduced to strangers. I’m fine in small parties but I could never remember all their names!” Lestrade shrugged unsuccessfully hiding a smirk when Molly giggled. “That’s when Maxwell reintroduced me to our neighbors, the Rothschildes, and I met their daughter we had played with as children, now fully grown. It was all arranged. She showered my ego with flirtations and attention and I was fool enough to think that made me special. And mother wanted me to be married and settled, so I did what any good son would do, I did as I was told.” Lestrade explained groaning at his naiveté. “I was engaged with her for two years, always hesitating. Even then I think I knew in the back of my mind I was making a grave mistake, but at Maxwell’s insistence and cajoling I broke down and married her.” For all of the abuse he was given throughout his life, Greg had trusted his eldest implicitly, little did he know at the time that his brother had availed himself of his ex-wife several times, even during their engagement while married to his own wife. They had an ongoing affair then, until the day she married the better looking Lestrade son, Greg was always the best looking of the boys. Yet another reason for Maxwell to turn against him.

“So your brother thrust Rebecca upon you even though he knew what kind of woman she was?” Molly looked to Lestrade aghast at the thought of what his brother had done to Lestrade, destroying his personal life single-handedly.

“It was the perfectly served revenge wasn’t it?” Lestrade joked at his expense.

“All that abuse he gave you and he still felt the need to do that to you. Absolutely terrible.” Molly’s voice wavered, shocked at the treatment Lestrade received. Lestrade took her hand and squeezed it fondly. He rose from the bench and pulled Molly with him, he strolled to exit the park and walked a bit down the Mayfair section of London until they came to one of the largest marble townhouses on the block. They faced the edifice as it towered over them, it was all white marble yet still managed to look dark and oppressive to Molly who now knew the truth of Greg‘s family.

“This is the Lestrade townhouse. Unfortunately when mother died and I became permanently estranged from the family, my brother no longer gave way to my having access to it for appearances sake. I‘m not allowed to step inside it.” Lestrade grumbled angrily. A stranger to his own family home, all he had to remember them were his memories.

The resentment towards his brother was a cold stone buried deep in his chest near his heart. For the most part, Lestrade thought himself an easy going fellow but his brother had betrayed him one too many times, not to mention abused him to the point of cold indifference. He looked to the windows and saw several servants nod to him from their views in the windows. He swallowed nodding back. The staff still respected his role as a son of the name Lestrade, even if his brother didn’t. He spoke no more of his family except to say, “the last time I saw my brother and his brood was on my wedding day to Rebecca, he announced to me at the end of the wedding breakfast that he found a home for us near the family townhouse and I was to no longer allowed to visit unless expressly invited. Which I was, when mother died five years later and Rebecca and I were already in the middle of our separation.” Lestrade said guiding their walk to the front of a modest yet elegant home that was half the size of the Lestrade townhouse, yet just as posh. “This was the place I occupied during the whole torturous affair with Rebecca Rothschilde.” Molly and he stood in front of it only briefly before Lestrade directed their walk on towards a more modest part of London near Scotland Yard.

“We had a two year engagement, I was so unsure of marrying her and I had to be coaxed into it by my brother, my mother’s pleading for my marriage to take place was the only reason I agreed to it in the end. I married her when I was thirty.” Lestrade pressed on about the relationship between himself and Rebecca. He looked around every now and then to make sure they were heading in the right direction for Molly’s surprise but she was too enraptured by Lestrade’s tale to take notice.

“How long did it take for the relationship to waver?” Molly questioned pressing him for the details of the time he spent with Rebecca.

“Not as short a time as you would think. She had me bewitched and utterly fooled. I thought we had a blissful marriage for two years, where she was entirely devoted to me but after that she began to show little signs of restlessness.” He looked to Molly and at her nod of understanding continued. “She complained about the hours I kept, that I was never around, my new position as detective inspector demanding a lot from me. Then I was promoted to run the division I do now. That only made it worse. She sniped and snapped at me whenever I was home. I had met Sherlock somewhere in there and then you.” At this he smiled to Molly who returned it. “I had little clue that what I felt for you was a good thing. At the time I thought it a weakness on my part, that I wasn’t faithful. But she had hardly been loyal to me by then.” Lestrade murmured continuing on their journey, to where Molly had no idea.

“How long did it take for you to notice?” Molly questioned curious as to how his knowledge of Rebecca’s many affairs came about.

“Longer than you would think for a copper to take notice, but its different when its you and not some stranger. It was little things, jewelry, furs, and perfume she wore that I knew I never bought for her, and when I asked she claimed they were gifts from friends but she didn’t mention what she did for her friends to have gotten all those rather expensive gifts. We had stopped sharing a bedroom together and I had taken to sleeping at my club. Well, that was until I found out who she had taken up relations with. She was passed around by my so-called friends at my club like a croquet ball through hoops.” Molly giggled at the image, which made Lestrade laugh at it all as well.

“What finally encouraged you to seek divorce?” Molly questioned still wondering what ended the marriage.

“Believe it or not it was Sherlock, when he pointed out our mutual attraction to one another. I had denied it for so long that to know you returned it filled me with a joy I had never known and it was a slap in the face. I wondered if that was what things were supposed to be like. The difference between her and you, seeing all the love that you had to give and the lack of love I was receiving from her, it was like waking up from a nightmare. Then I remembered the love between my parents, the love that they had shared steadfast and true, the marriage they had, and I knew that’s what I wanted.” Lestrade smiled kissing the hand that he held in his, knowing their marriage would be similar to that of his parents’ marriage. Molly only had eyes for Lestrade but if she had been paying attention she would have noticed that they were getting into her part of London.

“How did the relationship end?” Molly pressed him to finish the tale.

“Just as you might expect, terribly. I didn’t even warn her, I came home moved out my things to the apartment I currently occupy, handed her the divorce papers to sign and left permanently. She cried, made herself ill, threatened to poison herself. I’m sure you read about it all in the papers. The gossip mongers had a field day with the whole divorce.” Lestrade shook his head. thinking of not being able to open a newspaper for months without seeing his name inside next to scandals and rumors Rebecca had splashed about the paper. Molly looked to him with trepidation.

“I did read some of it, but before long the stories grew so outlandish and horrible that I just couldn’t believe those stories. Dreadful, awful things, saying you stabbed her with knives and burned her repeatedly on her body every night with a hair curling iron. I could never believe that of you, and to think that a woman could fabricate such violent, gruesome lies… I never allowed the paper to come into the house until the stories about you ceased to be regular news. You’re our Detective Inspector, London’s finest, even though we only had passing conversations, I could never think that of you. My father was in a state for months with no word of the outside world.” Lestrade had to stop their progression through the London streets to laugh at that. The smile on his face was encouraging, at least he was not without a sense of humor in the face of telling the dramatic tale of his life.

“She can’t have been that at fault for all of it though, I’m sure you must have carried some guilt.” Molly encouraged Lestrade to tell the whole truth, all of his reflections and all of his feelings.

“No, to be fair. I wasn’t exactly faultless, she had a way of bringing out my anger. But you must understand, I never hit her.” Lestrade ducked his head avoiding her face as his cheeks and tips of his ears growing a slight blush to them as he told the next bit. “There may have been a few altercations in a few select restaurants and I may have threatened the lives of a few former friends of mine at the club after she told me who she had shared relations with. Sometimes she would do it just to brag, to bring a rise out of me. I also may have thrown some of our wedding crystal into the fireplace in a drunken stupor. But that was the night before I left, I had a terrible hangover that day and was so angry with her that I couldn’t be in that house anymore, sleep in a bed she shared with other men. It just- I could not do it anymore.” Molly squeezed his hand in understanding and hugged his arm tightly.

“I understand Greg. The whole affair sounds like quite the mess.” Molly looked to him empathetically, there was a night shortly after the divorce that he had come on a case and looked positively dreadful. Sherlock and John had concluded the case by themselves, leaving Lestrade in Dr. Hooper‘s capable hands. Her father had brought a decanter or two of whiskey down to the labs and didn’t comment on it, and neither had she. Neither did father and daughter comment the following morning when Lestrade stumbled out of the labs and left without a word or look to the Hoopers. They both never said a word and to this day, she wonders if he remembers it.

“It was, quite the mess Molly. My brother threatened to exile me from the family forever which he obviously did and Rebecca flew into high dungeon with a tantrum of that of a spoiled brat when I refused to reconsider or reconcile with her. She railed against me and the family, moving from my friends at the club to the rest of the men of the ton, spewing forth all those false truths and rumors about me and more! She spoke with anyone who would listen about how little I knew about private matters that no one should know about and I won’t speak of to you. Maybe once we’re married I shall let you know exactly what she said, but I can’t speak of it now, not here.” Molly merely nodded in understanding. “I saw her for the person she really was. She never wanted me, she just wanted the money and prestige that came with the name Lestrade and as well as being a Rothschilde. She wanted to be on the top of the social tower, with nothing to stop her. She resents people like Aunt Evelyn, who climbed to the top by being a good person and friend to all. She wanted power and to conquer. My brother Maxwell just wanted two of the most powerful families in all of England to come together but refused to marry Rebecca, their one and only daughter, who had a reputation that disgusted him.” The anger he felt at his brother for being so selfish thundered through him and Molly understood now why he never spoke of it. The contorted look of his features terrified her, to think his brother and ex-wife caused that much pain and anger inside him, yet he still loved her and had reached out to her. His past not embittering him to their love.

“But of which, since you were the third son, and he faulted you with the death of one of your siblings, he thought you more than deserving.” Molly stamped her foot in anger, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped. It was remarkable to her all that Lestrade had faced before and after they had come to know one another, he truly was a brilliant man, and she counted herself lucky to be the recipient of his love.

Lestrade chuckled looking to her and enjoying someone coming to his defense and feeling anger on his behalf, even though he didn’t want her to be to discomfited by it all. “This story has a happy ending though.” Lestrade announced, finally stopping their progression on a side street that she wasn’t very familiar with. It seemed to wind around and when she looked around Molly say familiar stores in the distance that would bring her to her neighborhood. He turned to face her, taking her hands in each of his.

“Does it?” Molly questioned oblivious to Lestrade’s meaning. Lestrade looked down and then up to meet her eyes looking at her through his lashes. He smirked and tried to hide his smile unsuccessfully. He titled his head and quirked an eyebrow, it was then that Molly understood his referring to their relationship.

“Oh!” Molly laughed leaning into the laughing kiss he left on her lips.

“Yes love.” He smiled pulling her into his embrace. “You’re my second chance and I believe I’m finally in the right place.” Lestrade smiled down at her taking her head in his hands to kiss her lips. Molly sighed into the kiss holding onto his forearms glad that the street appeared to be quite private. “I have a surprise for you.” Molly quirked an eyebrow.

“Really? Where is it?” Molly questioned looking around wondering what they were doing on this street of all places.

“Here.” Lestrade announced procuring a rolled up slip of parchment paper from his jacket pocket, sealed with a wax seal bearing his family crest and wrapped in a red ribbon. He handed it to her. “Go ahead open it. It’s for you, the real copy of this is with my steward. I had gotten it after I proposed.” Molly slip off the ribbon and cracked the seal, unfurling the paper in her hands, she gasped, tears flooding her eyes seeing the words ‘Deed of Ownership’ written across the top. He looked to her shyly hands clasped in front of him in hope that she would approve. She jumped into his arms laughing merrily through her tears of joy and Lestrade spun her around laughing the entire time. He placed her back on her feet and procured a skeleton key with the same red ribbon.

“Which one is it?” Molly turned around looking around the street wondering which house she would get to call theirs. Lestrade gestured to the house in front of them, it was by far the largest in the area, most assuredly was much nicer than the Hooper residence but it spoke volumes about the opportunities Molly would have being the wife of a Lestrade. It was not of the splendor of his family townhouse, and it wasn’t a posh address of the home he had shared with Rebecca. It was even better because it was their‘s. Molly looked to Lestrade and he escorted her up the stairs opening the locked door, pushing it open, halting Molly before they could step inside. “Why can’t we go inside?” Molly questioned longing to see the accoutrements offered inside, everything but the hallway was dark inside, obscured by the shadows cast by the bright summer afternoon sun. She could however see the elegant furnishings, for what the home lacked in size it made up for in comforts. The foyer was marble and it appeared that the rest of the lower floor had solid chestnut hardwood floors. From the little that Molly could see she could tell it would be absolutely perfect, a new life for her and a fresh start for Greg.

“Well for one, the previous tenants are still moving their things out, and for another reason,” Lestrade teased with a growl pulling her too him and wrapping his arms around her, he leaned to her ear and whispered. “I don’t want to cross the threshold of this place with you until we can as man and wife with you in my arms.” Lestrade declared holding her to him, he kissed her neck feeling the answering shiver of pleasure course through her, before placing his head beside hers so that they could look into the interior of the house, watching as the dust motes floated around in the sunlight of the open door.

“If you notice we’re fairly close to your father’s home.” Lestrade murmured to her with an affectionate rumble, enjoying the feeling Molly pressed so close to him. It was a moment of intimacy they were not yet allowed to indulge in quite often. Lestrade knew that once they were married, this would be exactly what he would do when they had the time, until she either was annoyed with him or tired of his clinging form embracing her.

“Had you planned it like that?” Molly questioned looking to him with a suspecting smile and a raised eyebrow.

Lestrade huffed a laughed against her shoulder. “Not strictly speaking but it did work in the home’s favor. It was also an easy distance to my office, near to a park, but also easy distance to Regent’s Park and has a lovely garden in the back, so all around it was the perfect house in the perfect location, like it was meant to be.” Lestrade kissed the spot on her neck just behind Molly’s ear and rubbed affectionately at the sleeve his hand was resting on.

Molly hummed in reply, wishing that they were married already. “It’s simply perfect, Greg.” Molly smiled trying not to run into the house, she was endlessly curious about what was inside and the rest of the furnishings she would find inside it.

“Just think of it, little mouse. We’ll make love in every room of this house, I’ll see you pregnant in this house, be able to watch our children grow up here, see their grandfather play with them, see our children settled and happy with families of their own, it will be quite the little adventure. We‘ll be so very happy here.” Lestrade smiled, his eyes slightly misty. Molly looked to him and sealed the vow of living the rest of their lives together with a kiss. She scratched her fingers through the hair on the back of neck before turning back around to look inside the house.

“I can’t wait to be your wife, but Gregory can we afford this wonderful place?” Molly questioned concerned about all the money they had already spent on the wedding arrangements and now this wonderful house, Lestrade can’t have been made of so much money as that.

“Don’t you think on it, Molly. I know you’ve always kept the books for your Papa but from now on I don’t want you to worry, I have a steward that does that for us. We’ll never have to worry about money and I’ve never given it much thought ever, even as a baby the money I was to inherit was already working for me.” Molly watched Lestrade‘s face turn serious and wondered what he was thinking as he brought her farther into his embrace. It was a bruising closeness that was nothing but comforting to her. “I know that you think I have all this money and therefore you’ll be forever indebted to me somehow, but I want you to know now, that I have no desire for you to be owned by me in anyway. You’re going to be my wife, my spouse, my companion, my other self, not just some brood mare. I’m well aware of the laws of marriage but times are changing and I never really liked what I’ve seen, what those sort of husbands do to their women. So I have plans for you to be signed as co-owner of this house alongside me as my equal. I’ve also made provisions so that no matter what happens, to me,” Molly covered his mouth with her gentle fingers, which he kissed, halting him from speaking of morose things in this perfect moment. “It’s alright I’m not afraid to talk of my inevitable demise.” Lestrade chuckled when Molly prevented him from further speaking of it with a kiss on his lips, he returned it smirking. “Well you will be taken care of, you will never have to worry about your well-being ever.” Greg concluded with a confident nod and a crooked smile.

“I never did when you were around Greg.” Molly whispered looking in his eyes and sealing his promise with a quick kiss.

As the light of the day began to fade, the couple knew they could not linger before their future life any longer. It was time to rejoin the present, Lestrade closed the door and made sure the building was securely locked before joining Molly at the bottom of the stoop. He took her hand and they made their way over to the Hooper Residence. Molly showed Dr. Hooper the deed to the house, even though it was a copy, with all the pride of a proud wife. The look the Doctor gave Lestrade was a shocked one, Lestrade simply laughed and inquired when dinner would be. If Dr. Hooper had ever worried about Molly’s future, in that moment they were all erased and no longer was he a father afraid for the future of his little one. He was a man at peace with the world, knowing he would never have to worry about the fate of his daughter ever again. Her future with the Detective Inspector was assured. The private conversation Lestrade had with him when Molly was in her room, of her inheritance she would receive from him and how she would be co-owner of the house, only served to magnify the feeling. The couple and father ate together happy as could be ready for the coming wedding to arrive.

\---

In a darkened sitting room in the English countryside, a stern hand could be seen before a large cackling fire, the man’s person silhouetted by the flickering light. Inside that stern hand was an unfortunate invitation announcing the wedding of Gregory Lestrade to an unknown Miss. Molly Hooper. It was a pretty invitation if it would be viewed by the right person, however the invitation shrunk in on itself inside the man’s grip, seeming to apologize for the news it delivered. The betrayal of Gregory Reginald Lestrade upon the house of his family was complete. The man abruptly stood towering even over the impressive mantle that contained the oppressive fire, who’s flames rose three feet high. The man crumbled up the invitation and threw it into the flames that licked at the offending linen paper angrily, while it hissed apologies and swiftly turned into ashes. Not even the gold leaf was spared from the wrathful flames employed by Maxwell Tiberius Lestrade the Second. He was a man of tall stature, confident in his authority and an impressive if disparaged visage. Just like Gregory Lestrade had told his soon to be wife, he had gotten all of the good looks in the family. While the man that was his brother in name only, shrouded by the flames he stood before, gained all of the unfortunate features, his angry soul adding to the misfortune of those features that included a hooked nose and large, wide-set brown eyes and wide jaw with a narrow forehead that all together made him look quite owlish in appearance. When he put his monocle to his eye, magnifying it to onlookers, to look over the room around him, like a bird surveying from his perch, the effect was most complete.

His wife Margaret Ann Lestrade was a willowy woman, and looked very shriveled, under his strong overbearing nature there were few who wouldn‘t be. A crash from the rooms upstairs, with the tell tale stomping that followed signaled the stampede that were his offspring of three sons, Claudius, Fitzwilliam and Timothy. The poor wife and mother was quite overshadowed and outnumbered. Her only saving grace was her youngest boy, Timothy, who was her defender, even though he was dwarfed in size by his two older brothers. Their father had spoiled the three boys rotten, even so far as to deny the poor woman keeping him company anything of value. The clothes she wore were threadbare, and misshapen after one too many mending jobs. Her shoes were worse, slippers in tatters and stockings underneath offering no protection against the drafts that prevailed inside the old manor, even in summer. The only jewelry she wore was her wedding ring, which she dutifully kept polished after Maxwell had almost hit her over the lack of care she showed for it. Some would speculate the lack of care Maxwell showed for his wife was due to the fact that she was no reputed beauty but also due to his inability to have to abide a marriage to Rebecca Rothschilde, a woman after his own heart. It was rumored he still held a torch for the lady even after all these years. If only the omnipotent man knew how little Ms. Rothschilde thought of him in any other capacity except to use as a tool to cause mischief for her ex-husband.

Damn his brother for divorcing the good woman and instead running into the arms of this little chit. Whoever this idiotic girl was, Maxwell knew that his brother would marry her. If not for love, than simply to cause him anguish and to defy him. The entire farce was entirely insupportable! No one dared mention to Maxwell Lestrade that he had estranged his brother long ago and that Gregory’s doings were no longer any of his business, to correct Maxwell Tiberius Lestrade the Second was down right suicide.

“Was that an invitation my love?” The delicate Margaret questioned in a murmur from her perch on the loveseat, where she attended to her needle point with shaking hands. Her nerves never calmed, she was forever in an agitated state.

Maxwell Lestrade pounded upon the mantle shaking the bric-a-bracs and miniature portraits that littered it. “Yes it most certainly was an invitation! To the charade of a wedding between my estranged brother to a girl with the upstart pretensions of a common hussy!” The overbearing man thundered around the room, pontificating, his wife laid the needlepoint down into her lap, and dutifully listened. “He can’t see it but this strumpet is merely after my mother’s inheritance, the entirety of which she left all to that foolish little blackguard!!!” His wife nodded, knowing that at the name of blackguard, his speech about her brother-in-law had reached its peak. Maxwell would now, as was his habit, form a plan of action and swiftly make up his mind upon the matter.

“What shall you do?” Margaret questioned softly , hoping her husband would conclude his point so that she might be able to finish her needle point in peace.

“I shall write a very stern decline, stating exactly what I consider this marriage to be, and what I think of Lestrade’s taste in mousy foolish women. If everything in Rebecca’s letter proves to be true - which of course it is - the family name is in danger, from this good for nothing little whore!” Margaret shuddered at Maxwell’s vulgar language but there was little to be done for it. “If the little blackguard, the little black spot on our impeccable family name continues to defy me and marries the harpy I shall go down to his residence and make known exactly what I determine should be done, hopefully the marriage will be unconsummated. An annulment is far more conducive than another divorce. Though really with my brother does it really matter?” Maxwell’s booming laugh resounded upon the walls of the room, and Margaret shriveled up even further inward upon herself, knowing she could do nothing to warn her brother-in-law, everything Maxwell wanted to do would be done and to disagree with him was a dangerous cause. The crooked misshapen fingers of her left hand, that brought her work back into position to continue her needle point, were indication of the one time early in their marriage that she had disagreed, over his choice of replacement curtains. The dark enormously ugly green velvet abominations hung from the windows around her, just another reminder of how debilitated her spirit was.

Maxwell Lestrade scratched angrily at the notepaper in front of him, sealing the letter in gold seal wax, with an ornate obnoxious antique version of the family crest which almost dwarfed the letter he gave to the butler after he rang the bell. The old, ghoulish butler entered, excepted the letter on his silver salver, and left just as quickly as he appeared before his master. If you lingered as a butler in the manor, you could get a tumbler of brandy thrown at you. A footman that lit candles of the manor learned that lesson the hard way, still baring third degree burn scars along his back. At least he lived to tell the tale.

This member of the Lestrade family, was the cruelest man that ever lived. If it ever occurred to him that his brother might for once, be in love ready to obtain happiness that was rightfully his, his eyes denied that the thought had ever come to pass. It wasn’t in Maxwell Lestrade to think of love as something that existed. He learned long ago, thanks to his blackguard of a brother, that to love someone was to be vulnerable. And Maxwell Lestrade would never show weakness, to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow what a story, now lemme tell you. If i was going to write the modern day Lestrade he most definitely would be a little punk greaser kinda bashing around London and on the wrong side of the law and stuff. The only equal to that in the Victorian era would be a man in a very stalwart family like that and the third son with no prospects. Like Colonel Fitzwilliam in Pride & Prejudice, you either had to get a job or go into the military because you certainly couldn't rely entirely upon your inheritance. So his rebellion was taking up an occupation and not being married until his parents forced him into it. Tada! That was so punk rock back then. Well there are other ways, but I liked it like this. If I was going to write it another way, it would probably be a middle class family where his parents struggled to put him into the yard academy, and he fought his way up from the beginning. Either way, I think this worked out. 
> 
> Glad you all are enjoying the Victorian Era, I was reading my work (not that I equate my work to this in anyway, because it's not THAT good) and I noticed how Ibsen it sounds, which I feel good about because then you know its era appropriate. Not that I want Molly to be a meek wife and such but I do like the different dynamic the time period adds to the story.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing that last bit too, ridiculous uptight and stodgy characters are the most fun to write. So unlikable that they're so fun. Like Professor Umbridge.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	16. Rehearsal Interruptus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rehearsal and the Rehearsal dinner have come upon our couple at last. Very soon they will be united in holy matrimony. Both Molly and Lestrade are looking forward to the occasion. If this is true, why does Molly seem so distracted? What will Lestrade do when he finds out the reason behind it? 
> 
> Gregory Lestrade's detestable brother wrote a letter to him concerning his impending union. What words were contained within the letter? What will the Detective Inspector's reaction be upon reading the missive?
> 
> Stay Tuned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my dear readers!! I'm back! I have returned from this unintended hiatus!!! I am not completely moved in or unpacked, but this will not keep me from writing for you!!
> 
> Look for lots of chapters here in the next couple of weeks, as I used the time without wifi as a way to get a bit ahead of where we are in the story. 
> 
> I will also be writing some one shots I have in the works. As well as other ideas I've been working on. I will be busy busy busy as I settle into life here in the woods. [shudder] I will also be looking for employment or writing to go back to school for my masters. I have no idea which to do. I'm so confused. So for now, I will content myself with writing for you all! My dear, dear, readers. 
> 
> Here you go! The next installment... 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 16**

**Rehearsal Interruptus**

 

\---

 

Three months of intense wedding planning passed and in that time, Lestrade and Molly were not the only people who found love. The sprightly Mary Morstan and stalwart Dr. John Watson had found themselves engaged and married in the middle of all the wedding planning that Molly was doing. Mary was remarkable, able to plan her own wedding at the same time Molly was taking her around London planning her own. When Molly complained, contrite seeing the beautiful decorations and all that Mary had to do alone, that Mary should have asked for her help. Mary simply waved her objections aside. Mary explained saying that Sherlock was more than enough help than a whole team of bridesmaids could have been. Molly had looked to Mary in abject horror, visualizing the self-proclaimed high-functioning sociopath obsessively controlling every detail in planning the wedding. At the visual Molly conceded and settled for congratulating the happy couple instead and was just glad to be there alongside Greg. Molly had even caught the bouquet.

It was a lovely affair, Mary made for a beautiful bride and John only had eyes for Mary. The highlight of the wedding being Sherlock, his impeccable behavior and speech, until he realized halfway through his speech that someone at the party was going to be murdered. The man being John’s ex-commanding office, Major James Sholto. Lestrade didn’t even mind taking a moment during the wedding to arrest the man that had been suspected of the crime. Never a dull moment at a Watson wedding if Sherlock is there. As Greg and Molly danced a waltz across the dance floor together, they both were anticipating the day they would do so for their own wedding. They looked forward to the upcoming Rehearsal Dinner. It was to be quite the event, small but extravagant. A private way for them to celebrate and spend time with those around them that truly mattered before the big day came and they would hardly get time to talk to anyone at all.

 

\---

 

_Day of the Rehearsal, St. James the Less_

_Early Autumn, London 1891_

 

_\---_

 

The day of the Rehearsal arrived, and Molly found herself standing across from Greg as he listened intently to the Pastor’s instructions, or at least he pretended to pay attention, looking to Molly out of the corner of his eye, which caused Molly to giggle. The pastor simply pressed on without their cooperation, if they wanted to not pay attention that was fine with him, it wasn’t his wedding day. The nerves that bubbled inside Molly at the prospect of seeing all the people watching her say these vows to Lestrade put the idea of the wedding in perspective. This was really and truly happening. In three weeks time, her life would change forever.

Molly had by that time confirmed all of the invitations that had been sent out, and out of all the invitations she did send, there were only three that canceled. All of them were Lestrade’s siblings. Neither sister could make the journey from abroad, it was simply impossible and that she understood, their replies were most generous but reserved having never met Molly before. Gregory’s brother had had some colorful words to say about their impending union. Even now, the letter burned a whole in the pocket of Molly’s dress. She tried not to give it more thought than she sure Greg would insist was its due but the language was so powerful and intimidating, Molly had almost called off the wedding several times. Unbeknownst to everyone else involved with the wedding, including the groom himself. The first time she had read it, she cried hysterically in the parlor. Her father had to hold her for several minutes before she calmed down enough to show him what was the matter. The words inside that letter only served to incense her father, and he begged her to reconsider the whole affair. But she decided it was best to just let the letter remain in the dark for now. The next time they would be alone, she would tell Lestrade. Except that was becoming a rare thing the closer to the big day it got and now she felt the heavy burden of keeping this secret from him, after she had almost called off their engagement due to him keeping his family history from her. The letter was written for Lestrade to see, but it was written specifically with her in mind. Not only did she fear for their marriage, but she feared for her safety, for her life really. Greg had never mentioned her brother being so violent and demanding a person. She had just thought him simply cold and misanthropic. This man was a tyrant.

Molly was shaken from her reverie when it was her turn to say her part of the vows and she had not responded. “Do you need a minute Molly?” Lestrade questioned concerned, laying a protective hand upon her back, rubbing up and down in soothing circles. The bridal party, which consisted of Mary, Miss. Donovan, Mrs. Hudson, Aunt Evelyn, Dr. Hooper, Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Lieutenant Jones were sitting in the pews nearby, and looked to Molly with concerned faces, and two omnipotent, deductive ones. Molly assured everyone there that she was indeed fine and did not need a minute. She looked back to them and smiled. Then turned to Lestrade and nodded in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, even though his face seemed to still question her. It was moments like this that Molly found peace, knowing how much he wanted to take care of her. She both looked forward to and dreaded the day when he could read her like an open book, then she would have no secrets, but be able to keep none. Unfortunately, the letter continued to drive her to worried distraction and this moment happened many other times in the space between its arrival and today, a few even in front of Greg. Molly may have been clumsy, and timid but she never lost focus like she had been doing lately. This worried herself as much as it seemed to worry Lestrade.

“I’m fine, please continue Reverend.” Molly smiled to Lestrade, waiting for the Reverend to continue, Lestrade nodded for the Reverend to go on and very soon after the rehearsal concluded with a flurry of conversation. The Reverend shared one last calming word of wisdom with the couple about the ceremony, confirming the time at which the ceremony would begin with Aunt Evelyn, while everyone in the bridal party talked animatedly about the dinner that would take place that evening, as well as where it would be taking place.

The couple parted shortly after the rehearsal saying their goodbyes until the rehearsal dinner that evening. Lestrade and Lieutenant Jones were off with Sherlock and John to finish their duties for a case before the time for the event arrived. Sherlock boasted that if Lestrade could maintain his focus they would be finished with enough time to clean up for the dinner. Lestrade had another Detective covering for him that evening and had just enough time to refresh his clothes without being late.

 

\---

 

It was time for the rehearsal dinner. Everyone from the bridal party arrived ahead of the couple as Mycroft had instructed, giving them all ample time to stand in awe at the luxurious décor of the townhouse. John simply shared a look with Sherlock, knowing that this kind of opulence is what influenced him to be the man that was John’s friend. There was a quick tour of the house before a short toast to the happy occasion, everyone toasted to the couple, coming to an agreement that they were glad that Lestrade had found someone he needed in Molly Hooper. Everyone broke off into whispering anticipatory groups waiting for the couple of the hour to arrive. The stateliness of the Townhouse stunned the group into whispers, as if they were in the hallowed halls of a library or museum. As of that evening, it was officially three weeks before the blessed event and the couple of the evening arrived at the time they were told, a fashionably late time just a short while after the arrival of all of the other guests to the Holmes Townhouse and the shared a look of anticipation for the night, this dinner meant they were one step closer to becoming man and wife.

When Molly had struggled to think of where to hold the event of the Rehearsal Dinner, Sherlock had gotten wind of the problem. The dining room at the Hooper Residence was by far too small for what the Holmes family would call the small party of dinner guests. There would only be a party of twelve but that proved to be just large enough for Molly to struggle to think of a solution. They just didn’t have the means to have the event at a club or restaurant that would be suitable, for the new name of Lestrade that Molly would take and she absolutely refused to let Lestrade pay for anything else. Lestrade tried to convince her of the silliness of her unwillingness to make good use of his money but she simply stated it was for their future children and her father didn’t want him to pay for it. Sherlock in all of his plotting and scheming, made subtle mention of the issue to his brother Mycroft in passing during a recent case that involved a citizen from Germany, the international politics involving Mycroft. The occasion of running into his annoying yet useful brother could not have been more fortuitous to ply Mycroft for the favor of hosting the event for Molly and Dr. Hooper. Mycroft, owing Molly Hooper several favors and Molly being one of his most favorite non-goldfish, sent word that very evening. He assured her there was nothing to worry about and all would be taken care of to her exact specifications. This was his wedding gift to her, though he never made mention that he had already purchased another gift for her wedding entirely. It was all arranged, and the month between when he found out about the evening’s lack of venue to the night itself gave him plenty of time to plan at very little inconvenience to himself, his assistant Anthea, and the staff of his home. Mycroft even scheduled a day for Miss. Hooper to come to his home for a discussion of the menu and decorations for the evening. And Molly, knowing this was her one and only opportunity used it very judiciously as a way to get closer to Mycroft, melting his cold outer shell, although if truth be told he hadn’t put up that much of a fight. Everything was planned to the very last detail with everything that Molly wanted, and she didn‘t have much objection to any of the choices Mycroft had made, as his taste was superb. The evening was going to be truly spectacular. Simple, intimate, and peaceful, but spectacular.

Upon arriving at the Holmes place, they were shown to the parlor by Winston, the family butler, where currently all of the guests were being served champagne in anticipation of the couple’s arrival. When they strolled into the parlor everyone cheered and saluted the happy couple who also received champagne glasses to toast to the occasion. Everyone looked to the couple in anticipation as a speech was meant to be given. Lestrade stepped forward with Molly, who was holding onto his hand.

“Thank you, everyone for coming this evening and for being the most important people in the new life my future wife and I are embarking on together. You all are not just friends to us but as we look upon all of you, I realize that we are all family. I would also like to thank the Hoopers not just for raising this wonderful woman that shall be my wife, but for being the family I always wanted to be apart of and a family that welcomed me so warmly and without hesitation when you had every right to do so, to turn away. As a man wanting for nothing except that, I couldn‘t have asked for more. I will also take this opportunity to thank Mr. Mycroft Holmes on behalf of my new family for having this wonderful party here at the Holmes residence, it was most generous for you to open your home to us, sir, and I think I speak for Molly as well as the Hoopers when I say we appreciate the gesture most sincerely.”

To which Mycroft interrupted him to say, “it was my pleasure, anything for Miss. Hooper.” To this Sherlock scoffed. He knew that Mycroft was only trying to earn the favor of Molly. He had recently angered Molly while she was examining a body during a case, deducing the unsettling news she received from Lestrade’s family, as well as being found under than influence of his cocaine solution now that he was bored, alone, without the healthy influence of John by his side. He was still on her bad side even though it was the Rehearsal dinner. Sherlock had apologized though and was able to kiss her in greeting this evening. Mycroft, knowing that, was simple trying to show off.

“And to that I say we toast to the woman of the evening, my beautiful bride to be. To Molly Hooper!” Lestrade concluded his speech, as the Holmes boys glared at each other. The rest of the group toasted and clinked their glasses. After they finished toasting to the occasion, they moved further into the parlor where the party broke off into groups of more animated conversation waiting for dinner to be announced. Molly and Lestrade moved from group to group seamlessly. Miss. Sally Donovan, Anderson, and Lieutenant Jones stood to one side of the room, discussing work and how delighted they were that the boss would be in a better mood now that he would shortly have a new wife. The mood improved steadily around Scotland Yard as the time of the wedding came nearer. No man his age should be without a wife, in their opinion. Lieutenant Jones pretended not to notice the pointed gaze Miss. Donovan had given Anderson, to which Anderson adjusted his collar, suddenly very uncomfortable saying that he thought the room a trifle warm. Sherlock made his way over to the group, and try as he might, there was no getting away from making deductions.

“Ah! Lieutenant Jones, I see you have yet to pluck up the courage to inquire after Miss. Donovan.” The Lieutenant’s cheeks immediate blotched with blush, while Donovan’s warm skin went pale with anger. “But I can see why you have hesitated as it is fairly obvious from the dilation of her pupils that Miss. Donovan has been harboring a very large infatuation for Mr. Phillip Anderson here, our incompetent, and rather useless Scotland Yard medical examiner.” Anderson taking Sherlock’s bait was goaded into stuttering, blustering anger, to which Sherlock really enjoyed. “Really Miss. Donovan, you would most likely fair better with our young yet very astute Lieutenant here, as Anderson has been married for five years, judging by the white tan line left by his wedding ring that he currently has removed this evening. I would not hazard a guess that he is inclined to divorce as Anderson appears to be thumbing it in his pocket even now to make sure he doesn’t lose it.” The group looked at him, jaws dropped. Miss. Donovan only spared him a second before turning her anger upon Anderson, thumping him with her purse.

“I have a doctorate you know!” That was the only reply that Anderson could come up with, paying no mind to a very irate Sally Donovan at his elbow. Everything else had incensed him so much that the man couldn’t form a reply for any of it, except that.

“I wonder which institution in England would have been pathetic enough to stoop so low as to make that unfortunate mistake.” Sherlock sneered as Anderson stood before him threatening to do something so untoward at this happy occasion like fighting with Sherlock. Before the tension could reach its epoch, Lestrade stepped in with Molly on his arm, they both looked nervously to the group.

“So how is everyone here this evening? Alright?” Lestrade looked sternly both at Sherlock and Anderson, but in fact more so Anderson, then exchanged a look with Miss. Donovan who swallowed her tempered anger with a blush. Really, they both knew to behave better and not to appeal to Sherlock’s ego by taking his bait. He had told Miss. Donovan repeatedly that he didn’t approve of the flirtatious affair she was having with Anderson, a married man that would never divorce. She was only going to get hurt in the end, and Lestrade felt responsibility to prevent that from happening.

“Delightful. Everything is wonderful.” Sally said with a nervous giggle trying to break up the tension, which wasn’t helped when she took Lieutenant Jones’s arm instead of Anderson’s. The lady would have nothing to do with him now that Sherlock informed them through deduction that Anderson was of no mind to leave his wife, like he had promised Sally before they arrived this evening. Sherlock smirked to Anderson and bowed with only a click of his heels and a nod of his head before moving to the center of the room where Aunt Evelyn was currently having a lively discussion with Mrs.Hudson about the difference between fresh water and salt water hot springs, and telling Mary and John the benefits of this for John’s rheumatic military injury that still pained him. Mary simply patted his good shoulder, exchanging looks with him, while the older ladies fussed and worried over him. John faired fairly well, replying to all their advice good naturedly, but then again the night was young and he was a doctor. Sherlock could take no more of that however, knowing that John hated to talk of his war wound, wondering why Mary stubbornly refused to change the subject. He came up ready with a way of interfering when Mycroft called him into a discussion that Dr. Hooper was having with him. It was something about bees and a collection the doctor had seen, and this was absolutely Sherlock’s one weakness, once bees came into a conversation he was lost to it.

Molly and Lestrade approached the ladies and immediately, they began discussing the fabrics used for the wedding clothes and parts of the wedding that Molly had finished planning. Molly fought off their questions, not giving away details she had planned for the day, though Mary and her Aunt Evelyn knew most of it that had taken place. It was Mrs. Hudson that begged wholeheartedly for details. John and Lestrade joked about their role as men in all of this, how easy they had it. To which both ladies gave their men withering looks, the men laughing like schoolboys.

It was then that Winston reentered the room and called Mycroft’s attention. Mycroft then upon being whispered to, announced with a flourish “my butler has informed me that dinner is served. If you would all please follow Winston down to the dining room.” A maid stood by the door taking their champagne flutes as they passed, Molly and Lestrade were first, glued to each other’s side as they made their way down the hall. Then followed John and Mary. Dr. Hooper and Sherlock were deep into the discussion of bees still before Aunt Evelyn tugged at her brother’s elbow to go to dinner. Dr. Hooper merely shrugged to Sherlock who followed, kindly offering an elbow to Mrs. Hudson bending down to receive a kiss on his cheek politely in return. Miss. Donovan lifted her nose haughtily at Anderson upon his offer to assist her to the dining room, taking Lieutenant Jones’s hand to which the young man smiled, glad to be a preference of the lady’s for the evening. Anderson followed behind them silently fuming next to Mycroft, who commented that it was the man’s own fault for letting sentiment get in the way. Mycroft nodded to his wait staff before leaving the room to follow the party to the dining room.

The party had yet to take their seats at the dinner table, standing in awe at the room and atmosphere in which they were going to eat. When a Holmes said that the affair was going to be intimate, that didn’t mean it had to lack elegance and refinement. A small string trio was quietly playing Bach in the corner of the room a perfect distance from the dining room table, candelabras peppered the walls, adding just enough illumination to the room along with the candles that littered the table for the room to be well lit but without spoiling the ambiance. The gold light they gave bounced off of the chestnut paneling, letting the room give off the air of peaceful calm. Pink peonies, white hydrangeas, lilac, blue irises, and lavender roses were overflowing in three bouquets on the table, one in the center that was larger and than the other two that were dwarfed by it. The silverware, fine china and crystal table settings completed the picture. Everyone in the room, including Lestrade and Molly stood in awe at the romantic atmosphere Mycroft had created for the occasion. Apparently he felt he owed Molly a great many favors indeed.

Mycroft cleared his throat behind his stunned guests, lifting a small, proud smile at the evidence that he had outdone himself. Their reactions were obvious as he had already informed Anthea of a job well done this afternoon. “Go on everyone please take your seats.” He coaxed to the party. There were two seats across from each other directly in the center that had bows tied to the chairs, obviously for the bride and groom. They approached the table and upon seeing Lestrade’s card was facing them walked around together so the Greg could escort Molly to her seat and pull her chair out for her. She smiled to Lestrade receiving a kiss once she was seated. Lestrade bent down to kiss the hand that still remained in his and then moved to take his own seat, they both looked to the party expectantly. The rest of the party, slowly began to timidly walk towards the table to sit. Everyone was placed just so, so that no one favored conversation with someone they knew and alienated anyone else, and they were forced to mingle and get to know one another. Chatter began again once everyone was seated as the group animatedly commented on how wonderful the table was set and how divine was the atmosphere. Most of all, the people who thought they knew Sherlock well, were surprised that one of the Holmes Boys could plan and create such a splendid affair. Though for those that attended the Watson wedding, it was hardly a surprise.

Mycroft rose tapping the side of a glass that was already filled with champagne. “I would just like to take the opportunity before we begin dinner to welcome you all into the Holmes Family House, it is not often that we are graced with such wonderful company. I am not one for having people such as yourselves here, or anyone here really. So I thank you for getting this hermit out of his ivory tower. I also want to toast to Molly and Gregory, you are much loved by everyone at this table and we all look forward to getting to know the both you as you come together through your union and as you go along the journey of marriage. May it not change so much as make you both better through the bond you’ll share with one another. Congratulations.” At the end of Mycroft’s speech the group toasted once again. Molly locked misty eyes with Lestrade and then looked to Mycroft who looked fondly back to Molly as she blotted her eyes with her napkin. It was quite overwhelming to be the recipient of so much Holmes affection at once. Sherlock, who sat at the other end of the Holmes table simple shouted, “well done brother!” which caused the table to laugh. He really had done a splendid job. John encouraged the group further by announcing “cheers for the host of this wonderful evening!” The group shouted “hurrah!” and then gave another when Winston announced that dinner was served. An army of butlers swooped in, each with individual trays. The butlers artfully set down plates in front of each person and revealed the starting course.

Dinner flowed smoothly as it passed through the starting, soup, salad, and into the main course, each dish revealed was more beautifully prepared and delicious than the last. The wines to go with them were simply marvelous and quite an elegant selection. It had been a while since Lestrade himself had tasted such fine wines, no longer in the bosom of his family it seemed indulgent to partake of such opulence. Upon prodding from the group at his table, Mycroft announced that it was indeed a selection of his private stores. He was quite the superb sommelier, and a bit of an obsessive oenophile not thinking any of the more common stores of the townhouse suitable with the food he had chosen for the special occasion. He declared that only a selection of his private stores would do, telling them each and every wine that they had already tasted and what they had to look forward. Dr. Hooper was ready to get up from the table to shake the man’s hand but settled for lifting his champagne to the man.

“Everything is most spectacularly delicious sir, and my daughter and I could not have asked for a better place to have this evening other than right here in the bosom of her friends.” Dr. Hooper declared lifting his glass.

“It is indeed a pleasure Doctor. Anything to see Miss. Hooper happy.” Mycroft said smoothly enjoying a taste of his wine before continuing his meal.

“Hear, hear!” Lestrade agreed looking to Molly with an affectionate smile that she returned. Aunt Evelyn was at the other end of the table near Sherlock’s elbow, and was determined that the discussion of the evening should be entirely focused on the topic of the occasion for this gathering. The wedding. The woman cleared her throat taking a sip of wine before calling to her niece.

“I say Molly my dear, have you received responses for all of your invitations?” The table looked to Molly for an answer.

“Yes Aunt Evelyn I have.” Molly looked nervously from Lestrade to Mary, Mary had been the only other person besides her father to know the contents of the letter that Molly carried in her purse tonight. She advised to Molly to only tell Lestrade of the letter in private when absolutely necessary. The subject Aunt Evelyn broached, was tiptoeing too close to the letter for Molly’s liking. Mary simply encouraged her with her eyes to answer. She only hoped Molly would keep her answers brief enough to satiate her Aunt’s curiosity but to keep Lestrade in the dark about the three invitations that had been declined. Mycroft looked nervous himself and Lestrade wondered why, seeing the reactions around the table that was suddenly remarkably silent. Something was very suspicious, very suspicious indeed. Sherlock even looked nervous, remaining unusually silent in a manner that reeked of trepidation. The Detective Inspector smelled mischief. Unfortunately for Molly, Aunt Evelyn was on the hunt for information.

“And did you get responses to all of them?” Aunt Evelyn prodded.

“Yes I did.” Molly answered primly, she tried to lower her utensils down gently but in her nervous hands they clacked on the plate in front of her sharply, adding to the tension of the room. Lestrade lifted an eyebrow in her direction. He knew most everything concerning his future wife, if she was nervous something was most definitely happening without his knowing it.

“Any declines?” Aunt Evelyn questioned pointedly. She knew there was a declined invitation that had upset Molly but didn’t know the nature behind it. Molly simply ignored her question and tried to change the subject by commenting of the lovely trio of players that in the silence of the table stopped playing. Never let it be said that musicians never know when the time for music is appropriate and when it isn’t.

“Did you get any declines to any invitations Molly?” Lestrade questioned firmly waiting for an answer, leaning back from the table and crossing his arms, with the lift of an eyebrow. He was on the hunt for the truth now.

“There’s no need to interrogate Miss. Hooper, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft warned seriously, not wanting there to be discord at the table while they had just been enjoying their meal.

“Molly is free to answer as she so wishes, I’m not interrogating my fiancée, Mr. Holmes.” Lestrade looked to Mycroft with fire in his eyes, silencing the man. “Well?” Lestrade prompted her to answer. All eyes were on Molly now, she gulped not knowing whether to run or answer.

“Yes, there were three declines to our invitations.” Molly announced, sparing a worried expression in Mary’s direction that Lestrade followed, seeing who she was exchanging looks with. When Lestrade turned his gaze back to Molly, Mary’s face fell. There was no way of hiding the truth from him now, he would find out everything now this very minute, and in front of everyone.

“And who declined then? It’s no bother, so I don’t know why you’re afraid to tell me.“ Lestrade worried just why she looked so nervous. He stomach started to twist with anxiety.

Mary closed her eyes, in pain for Molly. Mary knew there was going to be an argument, it was going to take place right now, and there was no escaping it. She still wanted to attempt at helping Molly get out of it. “Is now really the time to discuss this? This is supposed to be an enjoyable evening!” Mary tried to laugh off the tension in the room. It didn’t work. Mary looked to Molly with apologetic eyes. Lestrade looked angry already, he was losing his patience while waiting for an answer in front of an audience. If they were alone Molly knew he would be more understanding. He hated discussing such things in front of others, even if they were friends.

“Everyone you had wanted to invite is coming, Greg.” Molly announced taking a fortifying sip of water, it didn’t help. Her hands were cold and numb with nervous energy.

“Well if everyone is coming then whom are the three that declined? You’re not making any sense Molly, love.” Lestrade took a steadying breath trying not to let his anger get the best of him.

Molly looked down and closed her eyes, unable to say the words while looking at Lestrade‘s face. “I sent out three extra invitations, each to your sisters and brother.” Molly felt of shiver of fear run through her before she looked back up. His face was thunderous and quickly turning an ugly shade of red, Molly could do nothing but fold in on herself. Lestrade couldn‘t take being in the warm inviting room any longer, feeling as he did, he stood up so rigidly and with such force that his chair fell backwards and banged on the floor causing the party to jump, Molly more than anyone else. Both she and Mycroft rose at the same time to follow Lestrade, who was already on his way out the door. Mycroft followed an already hysterical Molly who was trying to get Lestrade to turn around and face her.

The group at the dinner table could only strain to listen as they heard Molly call out hysterically to an unhearing Lestrade in the hallway. Dr. Hooper threw his napkin down at his place, sharing a pointed look with his sister who simply shrugged. Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, but gave a worried look to the door as the cries from Molly were getting louder.

 

\---

 

“Greg! Greg please! Please!” Molly’s voice quavered with tears and sobs the harder she tried to get his attention. The harder she tried the more Lestrade pulled away and refused to answer her. His heart was thundering in his chest, his stomach was a lead weight. It felt like someone poured cold water over him, it wasn’t an absolute betrayal like what Rebecca had done so why did he feel so betrayed? He had been lied to and more than one person at that table was privy to that information. He couldn’t think and a hysterical Molly pulling on his arm didn’t help. “Greg please I beg you! Please answer me!” Molly cried, reached for his hand. She barely had a chance to entwine her fingers with his before he shook it off like he had touched something repulsive. This made Molly hysterical. She sobbed quietly into her hand as best as she good. Mycroft pulled her to him, comforting her with a stiff hand to her back. It wasn’t Greg’s soft, welcoming touch so this only made her cry more.

“Sir.” Mycroft’s beautiful, zaftig, assistant and housekeeper Anthea called firmly from the end of the hallway walking forward curtseying to the group before her, not making comment upon that which she saw. “Perhaps it would be better if this discussion would take place in the library.” At Mycroft’s silent approving nod she gestured to Lestrade. “If you follow me sir, I shall show you the way.”

Lestrade was pulled, still unable to see anything but red into a brightly lit library that had a warm fire churning and experimental electric lamps adding white illumination to the volumes that scaled all four walls, and went deep into the room for several feet. Several rolling ladders found their homes in several locations along the walls. It was a perfectly appointed English library, and Lestrade appreciated none of it as he stalked into the room. The center of the room allowed for comfortable seating with a deep, tufted cushioned armchair and ottoman, a tufted leather couch and a desk near the fire. Lestrade noticed everything was annoyingly devoid of anything breakable. All he wanted to do was throw something at the fire to hear it smash. He hadn’t seen or even heard Molly enter until the large oak doors were closed by Mycroft, who stood at them blocking any attempt Lestrade might have had of walking away so that he might go outside and get some fresh air. Anger was coiled tightly in his breast but there was no outlet for it, yet. Mycroft opened his mouth to speak taking advantage at the moment’s lack of hysterics, but closed it upon seeing the gaze Lestrade gave him. Molly could be heard sniffling on the couch, her legs unable to hold herself up any longer. When Lestrade walked over to stand between Mycroft and Molly, she tried to grab at his hand again. This was shaken off, though with less force than before. He couldn’t even look in her direction. This made Molly heave a sob before she once again gained control of herself. “Well?” Lestrade questioned, hands going to their default position on his hips when he was impatiently waiting for explanations as a Detective Inspector. Molly was trying not to sob against the searing pain she felt inside her heart at that moment, not knowing the outcome this moment would have on their engagement. They had come so far and were so close to being united, she wouldn’t lose it all now. She gathered a deep breath, willing her voice to work though haltingly.

“Your sisters declined saying that they just c-couldn’t make the trips from where they are both living and your brother refused to deign our w-w-wedding with his presence.” Molly felt the words spill from her lips in a rush not knowing if what she had said made any sense at all. Lestrade stamped his foot unbelieving of the words Molly told him. He shared their addresses with no one, there was no way for her to be able to send them. It didn’t make sense.

“How? How could you possibly have sent any of them invitations? I never gave you their addresses to send the invitations. I didn’t want the family to know until after we were married.” Lestrade thought he had explained this to Molly implicitly. It was his wish, and she said that she would respect it not questioning him when he told her. That’s what really hurt, was that even though he made this one request of her for the wedding, she hadn’t done it. He wasn’t testing her, but still it felt like she had failed this one task and it spoke to something deep inside him, a warning deep in his mind that he couldn’t shake. He knew not to trust the glint that appeared in her eye when she asked this of him, he should have known better but he wanted so badly to trust in her. To for once have a wife he could depend upon.

“I believe I owe you an apology Detective Inspector. But Molly pressed me to find out information for her regarding the addresses of your sisters and I already knew of the address of the Lestrade manor. So I used my influence at parliament and supplied her with the addresses.” Lestrade glared in Mycroft’s direction but reacted like all Holmes’ when being stared down by the threat of death. He simply ignored it, and was absolutely unaffected by it. “It was very little bother or inconvenience of me to do so for her, and Molly had asked so little of myself while we were planning the dinner for this evening that I could not deny the request of doing it for her. She had said at the time that she wanted to surprise you on your wedding day with the presence of your sisters. When I questioned what you thought of the matter she was quite the sneaky little thing avoiding mention of that entirely. She reasoned that if they declined it wouldn’t matter and no one would be the wiser.” Mycroft confirmed with a shrug, the matter was a simple one really. He knew the words were working on Lestrade, who’s jaw didn’t quiver with unrestrained anger anymore, but the muscles were working as he thought, though still angry Mycroft knew he was not without reason. Whatever Molly had done wrong, the intention of love was behind it. That alone should make her forgiven for this one little miscalculation.

When Lestrade saw that Molly was only trying to surprise him with seeing people that he really did miss on their wedding day, this softened his anger enough that he walked to where she sat in tortured silence. The coil of anger inside him was still a tight spring, but it was no longer directed wholly in Molly’s direction as it loosened. Even though she defied his will, and his trust she did so only with the best intentions, out of love for him. Sometimes you have to defy someone’s wishes to do what was best for them. Being a man in protection of people, he knew what lengths he had to go through to protect the homeless, the drunks, people like Sherlock. You did what was best, and that often didn’t coincide with what they wanted. Knowing love to be her only motivation, he was willing to forgive it. He was still standing, unable to release the tension in his body threaded by the adrenaline of anger to sit beside her. But when she looked up at him with those sad, wide, doe brown eyes of hers, rimmed with tears, his heart was wrenched into calling a truce. Seeing pain and guilt in her eyes sliced through him as well, everything she felt, he felt. Lestrade reached his hand out to her, and she took it in both of hers, kissing his knuckles and pressing her cheeks into his palm when he caressed her face to wipe at her unshed tears. He felt her hands tremble in relief. Molly didn’t know quite how intimidating his anger could be and this had been a very minor transgression on her part. She couldn’t imagine his ire when he was facing the men at his club during his divorce. Mycroft coughed to gain their attention, glad that the couple was working towards reconciling. He now felt like an interloper, only coming into the room to prevent Lestrade from bolting and to apologize, explaining his role in the matter. With that done, Mycroft could tell he was now in the way.

“I shall go inform our guests that you need a minute alone and we shall continue dinner without you for the time being. Please be swift with whatever needs to come to pass to put a smile back upon Miss. Hooper’s face.” Mycroft announced opening the door and letting himself out. Once he left the room, Lestrade lowered himself onto the coffee table to sit before Molly. She simply leaned forward into his chest, begging for forgiveness and for him to embrace her once again. She could no longer be on the receiving end of his anger and disappointment.

“I am so sorry Gregory. I had no idea this would upset you so. I have ruined our Rehearsal Dinner.” She felt guilty for causing all of this bother. She lifted her head back up to look into his eyes, finding love there even though the rest of him still appeared angry. Calm, and forgiving for the moment, but still angry. He kissed her brow to wipe away the tension it held, but this only brought on another wave of silent tears, which he wiped away as well. Once she was calm, and no longer crying he asked for answers.

“I just want to know. Why did you not want to tell me?” Lestrade questioned. If his siblings didn’t want to come to his wedding, it would be of no surprise to him. So why was there reason to hide the fact? He knew his sisters couldn’t make a trip that enormous for a second wedding. He wondered what would give Molly cause to hesitate.

“I didn’t want you to find out…” Molly stopped herself from finished her sentence biting her lip as a few fresh tears spilled over onto her cheeks. These Lestrade wiped away, looking down to her with a knitted brow.

“Find out about what Little Mouse? I thought we agreed that we would tell each other everything. If it has something to do with my side of the family I must know about it.” Lestrade encouraged Molly to elucidate upon what she was trying to tell him. He wasn’t a mind reader, he couldn’t simply guess. He wasn’t Sherlock, he couldn’t deduce it either, but knowing his siblings he could imagine what were the contents of the problem.

“Find out about the letter.” Molly explained, looking down to her hands that were firmly wrapped about his right hand. With his left, he encouraged Molly to look him in the eye. He simply looked at her with a questioning expression. She sighed knowing she would have to show him the letter tonight, and tonight was supposed to be so special. “Your sisters were so nice in their letters to me, formal but welcoming and appreciative. I can’t have expected anything more than that, since they’ve never met me. They welcomed me to the family, apologized for being unable to attend and wrote that they were elated that you had finally found your happiness. I was glad that they wrote anything of the sort at all. Then this came…” Molly whimpered as she procured the worn letter from her purse. Lestrade’s face dropped as she handed the folded square of parchment to him, he opened it up and grimaced upon seeing the name written in a firm flourished hand at the bottom of the page, Molly followed him as he took it to the fire for better light. Also Lestrade did not trust his actions while sitting directly in front of Molly, reading a letter that was clearly written in his brother’s handwriting. It closely resembled that of their father’s. He couldn’t help but notice how worn it was, telling of how many times Molly had read it and given it consideration over the time that she had received it to now. He couldn’t help but hear the booming, pompous voice of his brother that he was growing to really despise as he read it. Molly watched his expression darken the further on he read.

> _“To Whom this Concerns,_
> 
> _Forgive me if I, as the head of the family you are estranged from, do not say that I desire at all, in any capacity, to find you well. I desire to say no such sentiment to someone who could so thoroughly betray our family so many times, without any consideration or second thought, as those parties this letter concerns have done throughout their entire despised life. The audacity shown by them and all parties concerned knows no bounds. It was a degradation on this family for those of connection with you to make the presumption of a common whore of absolutely no breeding to send the invitation I was of the misfortune to receive._
> 
> _I desire to receive no such invitations or pronouncements from you in the future and my family desires no such connection with you or those you have chosen to disgustingly consort with either, knowing of your lack of proper feeling or morals whatsoever. You are a blackguard and I have every desire for my family to remain untarnished by the very thought of you. Miss. Rothschilde was kind enough to inform me of your terrible deeds with this harlot, herself. As head of the family, I take being made aware of such encumbrances as my responsibility, which brings me to the crux of my feeling the need to respond to such an outlandish request as to that of my presence at this union to witness the degradation of all that is holy with this sinful wedding._
> 
> _If you dare to continue along this disastrous path with this strumpet who is merely an upstart with the good intentions of a common whore, a harpy who is only after the money my dearly sainted mother deigned to bestow you. -You the black stain upon my family’s name, she bestowed with an inheritance you neither require nor deserve in the least- I will come to London with every intention of using any means necessary to remove this reviled woman from union with you. I will do whatever I see fit, whatever course of action I deem appropriate. Interpret this warning as you see fit as it has no limits upon its meaning. Someone of such low connections, lack of genteel breeding, and no fortune shall never wear the name of Lestrade so long as I carry breath in my body. Get rid of the mousey little slut, or I shall. You can be sure of that._
> 
> _This I vow, or I am not,_
> 
> _Head of the family to which you are estranged,_
> 
> _Maxwell Tiberius Lestrade II”_

Half-way through the letter, Lestrade had to stop to take a fortifying drink of the whiskey that was most generously on display at the sideboard across the room in a decanter. By the end of the distasteful letter, Lestrade downed the rest of the drink in an angry gulp and threw the crystal glass he had been holding into the fire with a satisfying, resounding crash. It felt satisfying to do but it was not yet enough. Greg was eerily calm as he purposefully laid the letter upon the desk then in a flurry of movement banged his fist upon the table over and over again until the energy that built up inside his body was spent. In one last ditch effort to calm himself with the sickening words of that letter still swimming inside his head, Lestrade kicked the chair at the desk against the wall, it crashed into the bookshelves with a loud bang, a few of the books above it limply falling off the shelf and onto the chair and the floor with crashing thumps. Papers that were inside them, fluttered miserably to the ground in a soft flutter.

Molly covered her face in fear, she worried for what was next to be damages in Mycroft’s lovely expensive library. Neither Lestrade or Molly noticed the commotion building in the hallway, concerned loved ones no longer able to keep quiet, nor cared if they heard the loud crashes coming from the library. Molly worried that when he picked her up by her upper arms with agonizing force, that she apparently was next. Molly let out a pained moan at his bruising grip, but she was quickly mollified. When instead of him hurting her in some way, a thought that never came to her mind as something Greg would be capable of doing until this very moment, he covered her mouth in a fierce passionate kiss. He pulled her so close it felt like he wanted to pull her inside of himself as his arms embraced her, one hand caressing her bodice just behind her bosom where her heart thrashed against her ribs and the other cradling her head to guide it into the kiss. Lestrade traced her lips with his tongue before slowly working her mouth open until she was utterly at his mercy, making Molly whimper in surprised satisfaction, ripples of pleasure running through her. It was a deep, ferocious kiss that left her mouth swollen and bee stung, yet everything in her begged for that much more. Every thunderous emotion he was feeling was echoed behind the kiss and Molly had no choice but to submit to it. She held onto his shoulder and dug her other hand into his silver hair. Only making Lestrade pull her that much closer and kiss her even more fiercely than he was. Every other kiss he had bestowed upon her were nothing in comparison, all were merely raindrops on the deep well of passionate feeling he could express to her, the kiss and this realization made her body throb for his touch somewhere deep inside, that began to unfurl after years of lying dormant. It all made her feel as if she were drowning, completely out of her depth.

Neither paid attention to the door opening. John peeked into the room to survey the damage. “Everything alright you two?” He questioned before looking to see the couple in the middle of the room in a very ardent embrace. He immediately blushed and stuttered apologies, closing the door once again. He tried to usher everyone back into the dining room, answering everyone’s inquiries with “they’re fine’s” and when asked what he saw that made him so red with “nothing’s” He certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone what he had witnessed. Sherlock probably already knew what it was but was silenced when John could be heard outside the door saying “shut it!” to him before he could deduce a thing.

“I told you they were perfectly fine, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft announced just outside the door loud enough for the couple to hear, breaking the kiss before it had a chance to get any more intense than it had been. Molly tried to struggle for air, and Lestrade looked down at her face with a soft moan, his thumb caressing her bottom lip, lighting it with electricity. Molly followed his touch as their chests heaved to regain breath. The closer it got to the wedding, the more control they had to have over themselves, anticipating what would follow the wedding. Lestrade’s devastatingly ardent, soulful kisses certainly weren’t helping matters. They broke their fiery gaze, hearing John talk to Mycroft.

“I know but you know I’m a doctor, I can’t help but worry.” This they laughed at and Lestrade sighed deeply the last bit of tension within him falling away and laid onto the plush armchair kicking his feet up onto the ottoman and pulled Molly down with him so that she was securely in his lap. He kissed her slowly, patiently this time, like he had previously, somehow Molly regretted the fact. But she knew that if they kissed again in anyway like that kiss they had just shared, they would have each other as man and wife would right here in Mycroft’s library tonight. She swallowed, her mouth dry at the thought. It was actually quite the tempting idea.

“We can’t stay here forever.” Molly announced regrettably, snuggling into his embrace as Lestrade kissed her forehead by his chin. She didn’t mind the hand that had worked its way well into her intricately formed braided up-do surely pulling curls out and making it an utter disaster. She was glad for the intimate touch, it being a balm on her guilty feelings. Lestrade was angered, and tortured once again by his despicable brother, and it was entirely her fault. Lestrade tilted her head back and Molly received his now slow delicate kisses, as if he were apologizing for the way he had so thoroughly devoured her before, not that she was complaining. Lestrade merely grumbled in reply, letting her head rest on his chest where she could listen to the tempo of his heart finally slow.

“I know we have to go back, but I need a minute.” Greg heaved a rumbling sigh, finally letting go of any anger that had a hold in his mind towards what Molly did.. He was finally realizing why he had been so angry upon hearing about the invitations. Lestrade was afraid something akin to that letter would come to pass once his brother found out about his new marriage. Right now, with all of the preparations for the wedding, and his guard down, he had been unprepared. Lestrade just wanted to delay it until he could control the situation. Still he worried for the reasons Molly hid the letter from him. “I thought we were never going to hide anything from each other ever again. Why didn’t you tell me about that letter?” He questioned, looking to the ceiling as the fire from the fireplace a few feet behind them flickered light onto it.

“I was terrified of what your reaction would be, and I was waiting for the right time to let you know that I had done it. I was going to tell you tonight on the way home from the party …er or maybe another time. I had no intention of telling you in front of everyone like that. Aunt Evelyn forced my hand.” Molly explained looking up at Lestrade’s face with a sheepish expression. Now it was her that needed to do the apologizing for the exact same thing Lestrade had done to her for months.

“A good thing Aunt Evelyn did that too. I don’t want you hiding anything from my family any more. Especially nothing akin to that dreadful letter.” Lestrade nudged a thumb in the direction of the desk where the letter sat forgotten. “Why did you read it so many times?” Lestrade questioned. He wondered why Molly would torture herself by reading those hateful words so much.

“I was terrified, Greg. I had no idea what to do, I was debating calling off the wedding. I don’t want to come between you and your family, yet I have. I was so afraid of what you would say, or do, or even for myself I guess.” Molly still didn’t know why she let the letter effect her so. Perhaps that was just the genius of the way Maxwell Lestrade worked. His intimidation was legendary in the upper circles of the ton and they all lived in fear of his influence when he made appearances during the season.

“You were going to call off the wedding?” Greg was hurt and incredulous in the face of this admission. Not at Molly, no, anyone would run to the hills when faced with opposition such as that from their in-laws, but not Molly she was still by his said. Greg pulled her closer into his embrace to which Molly submitted to gratefully. He was more hurt that once again his brother had almost ruined his life, this time without his notice.

“I didn’t know what to do, what to think, Greg. I was worried for myself, for you. In the end, I knew it didn’t matter as long as we would be together.” At this, Lestrade kissed her lips softly in agreement. Once again they let the crackling of the fire fill the silence for the moment. “I can’t believe someone would threaten me like that.” The shiver of revulsion for Lestrade’s brother quaked through her. Lestrade mistook the quiver in her form for fear. He tilted her chin until he could look into her warm brown eyes, still glassy with tears.

“I will never, ever, let anything happen to you, my love. He’ll have to put a bullet in me before I let him tear us apart.” He sealed this invective with another deep kiss. Just as swiftly as he brought their lips together he broke the kiss, rising to get up. “Lets have no more of this talk its over and done with, put it out of your mind for good, Molly. We need to get back to our party.” They rose from the comfortable chair regretfully. And Molly went about the task of rearranging her hair as best as she could in the reflection of a knick knack on the mantle of the fireplace. It would have to do. Lestrade was much too enthusiastic in his ruining of her hair.

“Shall we?” Molly smiled to him, reaching out to him. He picked up the letter and was about to throw in into the flames, thought better of doing so just yet and put it in his pocket. Molly took his arm and they left the library, at peace with everything between them once again.

They were stopped in the hallway by Anthea, gaining their attention. “Dinner unfortunately was concluded without you, however if you would like to conclude your meals that have been waiting for you, I can escort you to the dining room.” The couple looked to each other with a smile and shook their heads, ready to move onto dessert. Anthea dimpled at the couple. “The men have moved onto cigars and brandy in Mr. Holmes’s study Detective Inspector which is just to left. Miss. Hooper if you would follow me I will escort you to the main sitting room where the ladies are currently having dessert.” Molly and Lestrade looked to each other regretfully, Molly only letting go of her fiance when he kissed her on the cheek. She followed Anthea, Lestrade watching them go before slipping into the room that currently bellowed with Sherlock’s and Dr. Hooper’s laughter.

The men cheered when Lestrade joined them, handing him a brandy and lighted cigar, he took them gratefully. The men all seemed ready to cheer for Lestrade and tease his prowess in thoroughly kissing Miss. Hooper, according to the report given by John. But Lestrade stilled their carousing with a thunderous look and a firm hand.

“I don’t want to break up the brouhaha, boys but I have to draw your attention to something important. It concerns the safety of Molly’s very life. I do not speak at all in jest.” Lestrade announced procuring the letter for the perusal of the men he counted as friends. Dr. Hooper waved it away, having already read the gross invectives it contained.

“I don’t have to tell you sir, when I say I was most displeased when I heard Molly referred to in such a way. I strongly advised her to put an end to your affair with her entirely. But the girl refused, stubborn little thing.” Dr. Hooper announced from his seat at the Holmes brothers scanned the letter and each had their own reactions to it. Sherlock’s expression grew thunderous and he growled, moving to the fire to quietly settle for poking at it rather than stabbing the man that wrote it. Mycroft himself pursed his lips with a calm that belied something much more calculated and sinister turning in his mind. John himself turned red and was completely gob smacked.

“Who could write such accusations? And of a sweet innocent girl like Molly?” John ranted, barely able to form a sentence, coming to stand next to Sherlock who met his gaze in understanding. They both felt for Lestrade and would do anything in their power to protect Miss. Hooper from harm.

“My brother. That’s who. He’s always been out for me, and this union between myself and someone he considered below the family’s notice has him completely irate. Poor Molly, she didn’t know what she was doing sending that invitation to him.” He looked pointedly at Dr. Hooper and Mycroft. “That’s why I asked her not to do it, but to wait until after we were married. That was there was nothing my brother could do to come between us. And I would have complete control of the situation. Now, there‘s no telling what he will do.” Lestrade ran a hand over his brow, thinking of the havoc his brother could still wreak upon his life.

“I can hardly believe that you’re related. You are everything good to be found in a dependable man, and this man the appearance of lacking all proper feeling.” Dr. Hooper announced with a pained expression from his seat. The elder man who would become his father in-law felt for Lestrade and the trials he must have faced growing up under the power of such an elder brother. Unfortunately the thought was not an uncommon one in high society families.

“You can believe it Dr. Hooper, though the Holmes and Lestrade families never co-mingled stories of this man’s beastly behavior towards the good detective inspector were infamous even in our select circles.” Mycroft Holmes confirmed what Dr. Hooper didn’t want to believe, that this good man to be related to such an evil character.

“What is to be done?” Dr. Hooper questioned to the room, although he felt for the poor man, he was more than just a little worried for the safety of his daughter.

“Is there anything that can be done? I can’t do anything myself. I wouldn’t know where to start. It’s been like this for years, I‘d hardly know where to begin.” Lestrade indeed felt lost to the power that his brother had. He wanted to marry Molly more than anything, but one word from his brother to a powerful magistrate, one objection during the wedding ceremony and there would be nothing Lestrade could do, there’d be nothing to stop it. He came to stand before the fire between Sherlock and John. It wasn’t John to put the comforting hand upon his shoulder but Sherlock, who looked to him with an empathetic eye. They both had their fare share of experiences with overbearing, elitist families, and overbearing elder brothers.

“Unfortunately there is little that I can do politically. He holds the reins on more than one politician in London and has ruined many a parliamentary meeting because of it that I’ve had to use my own influence over more than once so that all of London didn‘t collapse under his bullying prowess.” Mycroft pursed his lips, remembering the disasters he’s had to avert due to this man’s idiotic influence.

“Rest assured, Dad. I’ll die before anything happens to Molly.” Lestrade smiled to the man confidently, perhaps with more confidence than he felt. But in the presence of all the manly energy he felt his good spirits coming back, they were here to celebrate his final moments of bachelorhood.

“Though he may be safe within the buttress of the Lestrade family manor in the country, if he so much as steps into London to be in the vicinity of Molly, Sherlock John and I shall be waiting to give our opinion upon his objections to the marriage.” Sherlock and John came to stand next to Mycroft and all three clinked brandy goblets in agreement. “Neither of you should worry, you’re in the bosom of friends and family, we will all protect you as you are most definitely the one in the right here Lestrade.” Mycroft announced confidently. Maxwell Tiberius Lestrade may have been a bully and he may have been powerful, by he was by no means of the same level of prowess and intelligence as that of the Holmes boys and John Watson. It was all very reassuring.

“And you can count on the men of the yard to protect the soon to be missus and your home sir. We’ll see to that.” Lieutenant Jones announced proudly, Anderson was still to be found sulking in a chair, miserable about Sherlock ruining his chances with Miss. Donovan. There must always be a specter at a party, for once it wasn’t Mycroft.

“Well thank god for that!” Lestrade laughed in jest to the young lieutenant as the other men joined in. “Come! Enough of this talk of my despicable brother! Let’s get back to the women!” Lestrade announced, taking the letter from Mycroft tearing it up into pieces to add to the fire that dutifully and hurriedly turned it gladly into miserable ashes. The men downed their brandies and made their way out to the hall, their laughter and good cheer echoing off the walls.

 

\---

 

When Molly and Anthea entered the sitting room where the women were taking tea, they all were as silent as the grave. Mrs. Hudson, Mary and Aunt Evelyn were seen talking on the settee quietly whispering to one another, Donovan had been listening to their conversation but was looking to the door. She could not partake in the conversation being had by the other ladies, too full of nervous energy, but could only listen to the noises outside the door and wait. When Molly entered it was Donovan that first looked to her, sighing in relief to know that she was smiling. Donovan moved to the tea table to serve Molly but was shooed away politely by Anthea who took her position at the table. The elder ladies, being the mother hens that they are, bustled immediately to Molly after Miss. Donovan laid a comforting hand upon Molly’s arm and matched her happy smile with a relieved one. Miss. Donovan cleared out just in time before Hudders and Evelyn swooped in.

“Oh my dear! We were so worried! Is everything alright?!” Mrs. Hudson questioned taking Molly’s tea cup from her and laying an arm around her shoulders. Aunt Evelyn did the same to her cake plate that she had just been given by Anthea, and put her arm around Molly’s waist. They forcibly guided her to the settee and chairs before the fire. Donovan and Mary sat in the opposing chairs and looked to the bride with sympathetic glances, feeling pained at watching the poor girl come under such energetic attention.

“Really dear, I had no idea. If I had any idea that dear Greg would react like that I would never have said a word!” Aunt Evelyn looked to Molly, contrite at the realization she almost was the reason for their relationship ending. The thought scared her, for once her gregarious and open ways almost got her in trouble. “Can you forgive me, Molly?”

Molly smiled and kissed her Aunt on the cheek. Of course she could forgive her Aunt for misspeaking where she didn’t know she was in the first place. “Absolutely, Aunt Evelyn. It is not your fault, its good that you brought everything out in the open. I needed to talk about it with Greg.” Molly smiled at the women around the room that nodded encouragingly to her. Mary seemed less certain but seemed pacified by Molly’s good spirits.

“I hope everything is okay between you and the boss, now Miss. Hooper.” Donovan looked to Molly nervously.

“Oh yes, Miss. Donovan, I can assure you are things are very… good, between the Detective Inspector and I.” Molly dimpled to the group of women.

“I should say so dear by the state of your hair.” Mrs. Hudson announced to the room, and Mary laughed into her tea cup. She smiled nervously to Molly, and Molly realized she probably didn’t do a good of a job as she thought of rearranging her hair, but the other ladies were too polite to mention it, even Anthea. Until Mrs. Hudson took notice of it. Molly went to take another drink of her tea but was stopped and had the tea cup taken away once again, this time by Aunt Evelyn.

“Dear, I hate to keep you from your tea but you simply must come with me.” Aunt Evelyn announced taking Molly by the hand to the tea table. Molly could do nothing but follow, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Anthea who was occupying herself with making sure everything at the tea table looked just so, and was listening for the men’s return to the sitting room to begin pouring the tea for them. At Aunt Evelyn’s throat clearing, she looked up giving the ladies her attention.

“Yes, Ms. Hooper? May I be of assistance?” Anthea questioned looking to the other two ladies.

“Yes, child, I dare say you may. Is there a room where my niece and I might freshen up ourselves a little?” Anthea cast a knowing glance to Molly who blushed but Anthea simply pressed on.

“Of course, if you’ll follow me.” Anthea announced taking them to a door in the back of the room, behind where the ladies were currently seated. “Mr. Holmes has appointed this room for just such use, you may use anything here that you require and there is a basin and pitcher full of water here should you have use of it. I will be just outside the door should you need anything else.” Anthea showed them into the room and just as quickly as they came in, she curtsied and left.

Inside the sitting room was a large full length mirror, and a writing desk within the room nearby also doubled as a vanity that was set up to be of use to the ladies complete with a bursh, comb, bobby pins, and anything else a woman might need to use to tend to fixing her face or hair. Molly was shocked that Mycroft went to such lengths to make them feel welcome. It put a soft spot in her heart for the man that she hadn’t quite felt before. But her focus diverted back to the task at hand when she sat down and noticed the actual state of her hair. Her embarrassed yelp of surprise made her Aunt jiggle with laughter. “Do not worry little mouse, it’s nothing that can’t be set to rights. Allow me. Sit, sit, sit!” Aunt Evelyn encouraged pushing on Molly’s shoulders to sit her on the elegant bench that stood before the makeshift vanity. She made quick, skilled work of fixing her nieces hair. “So tell me dear what actually did happen. Your hair is enough evidence for even that Mrs. Hudson to notice.”

“I don’t know where to begin Aunt. I was so distraught. I was taken into Mr. Holmes’s library, I was sitting on the couch watching Greg fume waiting for him to forgive me for keeping a secret from him, then he was caressing my face and we were forgiving each other. I showed him the letter from his eldest brother, and he became angrier than I had ever seen him before in all I’ve known him.” Molly gulped thinking upon his fuming rage as Greg had read the letter. He was stirred to anger, when she had read it, it simply terrified her. Her Aunt’s ministrations were working to keep her calm.

“Did he hurt you dear?” Aunt Evelyn questioned, her hands stilling in the middle of their task.

“No Aunt! He would never. He was just so angry that he kicked some of the library furniture around.” Molly explained sheepishly.

“Ah! So that’s the ruckus we heard inside the room.” Aunt Evelyn nodded continuing the word of fixing Molly’s hair, reaching down for bobby pins to hold the hair in place. Molly’s hair was difficult to fix into place to start with, Lestrade working his fingers and undoing all their good work didn’t help.

“Yes! It did scare me, I will tell you that. I didn’t think he would hurt me but for the first time I doubted that. Then as quickly as he grew to anger, he was across the room and we were…” Molly stumbled off from finishing her explanation, not knowing how to finish the story. Her blushing ruby cheeks were enough evidence of what occurred for her Aunt who smiled knowingly at Molly’s reflection in the mirror.

“He made a shambles of your hair, that’s what he did!” Aunt Evelyn announced to Molly who laughed. Aunt Evelyn finished the last retouches to her hair and then bent down to kiss the top of Molly’s head. “There! All done, my little mouse. Shall we rejoin the others?” Evelyn suggested now that their task was complete. Molly took her hands in her own smiling fondly at her Aunt, who was as near to a mother as any elder woman could get.

“Yes indeed Aunt! We should!” Molly agreed stepping to the door and out of the room. Just as they entered the sitting room again, with the women welcoming them back, glad to see Molly’s hair put to rights again, they all could hear the booming laughter and carousing of the men in the hallway. Molly went back to her tea and Anthea poured the tea for the gentlemen.

The rest of the evening continued in a merry attitude. There was no more reason for arguments and Lestrade and Molly’s attention to one another put the rest of the party at ease. Lestrade apologized to the party for his lack of control on his anger, and all of his friends quickly forgave him. Lestrade kissed Molly on the cheek and apologized to which she accepted and apologized as well. All of this affection was rather nauseating to Sherlock, but he was quickly silenced by glares from the rest of the party. This made Mycroft smile like the cat that ate the canary. In his opinion, despite its hiccups. The evening was altogether an astounding success, and Sherlock being scolded by the party was just the perfect addition. It was his delight that the couple should leave the Holmes townhouse in such good spirits for the rest of the time between that night and their wedding day. He could only hope that the three weeks that lied between would go smoothly. What else could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was emotional... I hope you enjoy reading this chapter, it was so long in posting and I got a bit stuck there. I don't remember where but I do remember getting stuck. Glad I could get myself unstuck to finish it. 
> 
> I promise to keep up with my writing while I unpack and work on sorting my life out. One will not interfere with the other, promise. 
> 
> Hope this gets you over the hump of your week! I'll treat you to a weekend chapter hopefully! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	17. Galloping Stags' Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is always what would happen when the planning of one's stag night is left to Sherlock Holmes. At least if you're his trusty Detective Inspector, we all know the stag night of his best friend was something entirely different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend and I bring you another chapter, I might post the next chapter tomorrow as the break of this chapter is quite mean, but It's how I have it laid out accordingly and I will not deviate from my timeline at all. 
> 
> Soooooo so so so happy that my dear faithful readers have been enjoying the story so much!!! *squee!!!* It is my pleasure to bring this story to you! 
> 
> And now the next chapter...
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 17**

**Galloping Stags' Night**

 

\---

 

_The Stag Night, Two Weeks Before the Wedding_

_Early Autumn, London 1891_

 

_\---_

Lestrade jumped over a knocked over cart just before he tripped on it following in the trail of Sherlock as he gave chase to a suspect. Lestrade looked back to make sure Watson was there and he was, hot on his heels. He grumbled to himself, seeing the boyish grin on John’s face, the man enjoying the chase almost as much as Sherlock. He didn’t know what was worse, Sherlock and his complete lack of normality, perfectly content when solving mysteries and chasing after criminals or the fact that John completely encouraged him while denying loving all of it in equal proportion. They were once again following behind the billowing coat of Sherlock Holmes. Lestrade would think that it was just like old times were it not for the frustration that Sherlock decided to do this on his stag night. Two weeks before his wedding, he was supposed to be carousing with his two friends at the club they just left.

He hadn’t known that was the occasion they were celebrating when they were in the parlor of the Hooper Residence. He had wanted to spend the evening with Molly and Dr. Hooper but then Sherlock John and Mary showed up with Anderson Mycroft and Lieutenant Jones in tow. He raised his eyebrow but was quickly distracted by a drink being shoved into his hand and toasts being made. There had been so many toasts to the impending happy occasion of his union to Molly that he thought very little of it at the time. John and Sherlock quickly rose with the other young men and made their way out, when Sherlock had told him to come along he followed with them kissing Molly on the cheek. They made their way outside and a cab ride later he was sitting in a club, surrounded by half naked women serving them all drinks, laughing, carousing, gambling, and having a generally good time, while equally scandalously dressed women performed and danced on a stage. He only began to suspect that he was on his stag night when the men around him began to let loose, drinking like this was their only night to do so. His only evidence to the contrary was Sherlock not letting him imbibe after a certain point. His head was only beginning to swim, he was at that in-between stage between having a nice buzz and being absolutely pissed that clouded his vision in an uncertain way.

It was only when Sherlock started chasing a man through the club, elbowing other gentlemen, escorts, and waitresses out of the way, generally wreaking a Sherlockian specific type havoc that Lestrade knew what was actually going on. When he and Watson followed Sherlock, John gave him an earful, well as best an earful as could be given when Sherlock was after a criminal like a hound on a scent.

“Are you telling me, that you used Lestrade’s stag night as a ruse for you chasing a suspect?!” John said running after Sherlock, through the as yet crowded streets of London. They dodged late night couples strolling and horse drawn coaches, making their way towards the less seemly parts of the town.

“Yes John do keep up!” Sherlock shouted back, weaving seamlessly through the chaos, while both John and Lestrade struggled to excuse their way through the crowded streets.

“Wait! THIS WAS MY STAG NIGHT?!” Lestrade questioned incredulously, following them.

“You didn’t know? Sherlock you didn’t tell him?!!!” Sherlock looked down the street, trying to spot the bumbling form of the man also weaving through the heavy crowd to get away from them. It was only when he made his way through and started running down an empty street that Sherlock spotted him.

“Yes, yes, now come John, Lestrade. He’s getting away!” John and Lestrade groaned following in Sherlock’s wake.

“Look at this way Lestrade, at least we won’t end up in a holding cell like Sherlock and I did for my stag night.” Lestrade laughed in recollection of finding them in one of the holding cells the next day and used his sway to get them out all the crimes they had committed while drunk. It was quite the night, and so this night would be as well. There was really nothing like running after criminals with Sherlock, so in a way Lestrade was glad that Sherlock had given him this. Even though it wasn’t exactly proper or what he had been expecting. He liked that it wasn’t. Finally they cleared their way towards a less populated section of town, and the men were able to catch up to Sherlock who without their help was bound to get himself hurt by the suspect who looked just on the wrong side of guilty.

This was where we currently found Lestrade and John, a few steps behind the consulting detective as always. It was then that Sherlock was able to grab the man they were chasing after, tumbling into the ground and tussled with the suspect. Lestrade caught the glint of something metal in the suspect’s hand as they reached the two men upon the ground. Lestrade didn’t give a second thought to his safety reaching out to tussle with the man with Sherlock as well. The tussle continued as Sherlock tried to help Lestrade wrangle the man to slap the cuffs on him, Lestrade dodged elbows and fists while he tried to force the blade from the man‘s hand. The man turned over sudden dislodging the grips that they had on his arms and just when Lestrade reached out to grab him again, the man lashed out with the knife. It stuck into Lestrade’s shoulder. His shout of pain was the only clue John had that it happened until he watched Lestrade collapse face first on the ground. John was immediately by his side and grimaced when he felt the wound. And when removed, his hand was covered in Lestrade’s blood. Neither did he as a doctor like the way the man’s coat was becoming dark with the stuff. The suspect used the moments distraction to wrestle away from Sherlock’s grip and make a break for freedom. Sherlock had been too distracted by the wounded Detective Inspector to notice the man was getting away until he was gone.

“Lestrade? Are you alright?” John looked at the man’s eyes and noticed they were unfocused, John hoped that it was just from the suddenness of the wound and not from loss of blood. When he heard a groan of pain from the man, he was regrettably relieved. It was better for the man to be aware and in pain than unconscious and going into shock.

“Damn! Blast! We almost had him! A whole month of investigation, a whole evening wasted!” Sherlock shouted pacing back and forth a few feet beyond them.

“Sherlock!” He called to the man that was staring down the street trying to see if it was still possible to track the runaway suspect. It was not. He cursed to himself coming back to Lestrade’s side and immediately removed his blue scarf giving it to John, instinctually.

“How does it look John?” Sherlock looked to John who had a very sober mien.

“It won’t be bad once I get a needle and thread to the wound, but we have to get back to my house immediately so that I might staunch the blood flow a might better. I need Mary’s assistance. And you need to get Molly.” Sherlock was taken aback at the thought of telling Molly that he inadvertently injured her fiancé.

“No!” Lestrade called out sitting up suddenly, too suddenly and growling as a wave of pain in his shoulder hit him. “Don’t tell Molly. It’ll be fine, just sew it up.” John shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Alright Lestrade. Alright. Lets get him home, come on Sherlock help me.” Together the two men lifted Lestrade and carried him the short distance to a cab and back to the Watson practice and home. John wasn’t surprised to see the place still well lit and Mary still about, she said she would wait up for them to stumble drunkenly home where John had offered the men to sleep off their stupors. Upon seeing them Mary rushed to the door, with a smile, thinking the men carrying a well pissed drunk Lestrade to pass out at their home. Upon seeing the bloody scarf and half conscious man in their arms, Mary was quick to action. Calling for her maid, she sent the girl scurrying off for hot water and to start ripping a sheet for bandages.

“John! How? Wh-? What happened?!” Mary said as they lowered Lestrade onto one of the couches to take a breath from carrying him into the house. She quickly removed Sherlock’s scarf and Lestrade’s jacket, retrieving a towel from her pocket and applying pressure to the bloody wound in the scarf‘s place.

“We were running after a suspect from my current case, and Lestrade got stabbed while we were trying to subdue the man.” Sherlock explained with a pained expression. As much as he believed it was Lestrade’s drunken carelessness that caused the catastrophe it was his fault for turning the evening into a stake out and the subsequent chase. He couldn’t help the guilt that rattled around inside his head.

“Sherlock!” Mary looked to Sherlock in a scold with her hands on her hips. Watson looked pointedly at Sherlock as well, who went to the fireplace to stir the fire.

“Mary help me get him into the exam room.” Mary nodded, using her hands to support the wounded shoulder. With the help of all three, Lestrade was moved from their living room to the exam room, upstairs. John set about getting Lestrade out of his clothes with Mary’s assistance.

“Can I do anything else?” Sherlock questioned from the door of the surgery, waiting to be told of anything that he could do. Feeling absolutely useless in the face of this emergency.

“You can go get Molly and Dr. Hooper.” Mary suggested turning away from rushing around the room and gathering the tools John would need to sew the wound shut.

“No please! Don’t get Molly.” During the jostling of moving Lestrade around he was roused from his pained stupor. At his objection, Mary opened her mouth in surprise.

“And why should Molly not be told?” Mary lifted an eyebrow in Lestrade’s direction taking the sheets, bandages, and a basin of hot water from the maid that bustled around Sherlock’s useless body standing in the middle of the doorway. She bustled off at Mary’s instruction to continue to boil water.

“I don’t want her to worry, the last thing she needs is to worry about something that in the end will be nothing more than a scratch. This is nothing I’m not used to.” Lestrade groaned when Watson laid him back down and began wiping at the wound to clean away the mess created by his clothes. The wound itself was already beginning to stop bleeding, lucky for the man there were no nicked organs or arteries, it was all muscles and would just be sore for quite some time.

“That may be true for you as Detective Inspector Lestrade but she’s going to be Mrs. Lestrade soon. You are going to be her husband. The last thing she would want is to be in the dark about you being injured sir!” Mary caught John’s eye, exchanging a look with one another.

“Fine, get her then. But if she cries it wasn’t my idea to fetch her.” Lestrade growled, brow knitted miserably in pain, sitting up to share a pointed look with Mary. Mary squared her shoulders in determination. She shared a look with John who gave a miniscule nod. As a friend, and a new wife herself, Mary could not let Lestrade go through this without letting Molly know. Mary nodded to Sherlock and as swiftly as he was told, his coat billowed behind him as he ran to fetch Molly for Lestrade. John gently pushed Lestrade back down to lay on the table and called to Mary to assist him in sewing up the wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew!!! What an exciting bit!!! All in the line of duty though for Lestrade. I wonder what will happen when Molly comes to the Watson Residence and finds Lestrade getting stitched up. Hmmmmmmm... Don't worry you won't have to wait long for answers. Promise!!! 
> 
> Look forward to what you all think about this!!! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	18. A Wounded Fox & a Worried Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would Molly's reaction be upon seeing Lestrade wounded? Will she cry? Will she be angry? Will she hit Sherlock? How will she deal with playing nurse to her Detective Inspector? 
> 
> Well wonder no more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised the next chapter during the weekend but I forgot what time it is, and now it is technically Monday!!! Eeep!!! Don't hate me, but here it is!!! I'm posting it now before I fall asleep! Now you're all caught up to me!!! And I have to finish the chapter I'm currently writing so that I might post it for you!! Don't worry about those one shots I'm going to write those as well I swear. My attention is just always grabbed by finishing this chapter. I might write those, and then come back to the story once this latest chapter I'm working on is finished because it quite loooong. [Aren't you all lucky? trolololololol]
> 
> So much work so little time!! Oh and I'm starting a little business venture- I guess that's what you would call it- with a very generous, good friend. I guess that's what networking does? *shrug* I wish someone would actually explain the process of networking to me so that it would stop being this mystical thing everyone else seems to be capable of doing except me. It's like when people tell you to be proactive or that it's possible to not procrastinate, things like that. Everything just seems to fall into my lap by accident. Anyway... This will allow me to work from home and work more on my writing and spend less time occupying my waking hours exhausting myself with a j-o-b...
> 
> Long update just wanted you all to know what was up. But here's the next chapter hope you all like it!!! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 18**

**A Wounded Fox & a Worried Mouse  
**

 

\---

 

_The Stag Night, Back at the Hooper Residence_

_Early Autumn, London 1891_

 

\---

Molly had been sitting with Mary after the men had left for the stag night. Lestrade had looked around the room like he had no idea what was taking place, when Sherlock and the other young men stood up abruptly to leave. She smiled knowingly to their retreating forms from her place on the settee. Leave it to Sherlock Holmes to plan a stag night and tell everyone but the groom what was going on. She and Mary poured over the left over details of the wedding, confirming what was left to be done. There seemed to be so many tiny details but not much left, just confirmations here and there.

It went on ten o’clock and Mary decided that it was time for her to be getting home, she was anticipating the men coming to her house very drunk and wanted to be home to receive them. Molly laughed conspiratorially at that knowing that her future husband could be quite the drinker when in a celebratory mood and looked forward to Mary’s stories about their drunken actions the next day. Molly saw her out with a hug and an affectionate kiss on the cheek. She doubted she would hear much from Lestrade for at least two days. Maybe three, depending on how long it took the liquor to wear off.

It wasn’t long after that, she was reading a new medical journal her father had just finished, when the she felt a sudden cold feeling of dread. She couldn’t explain the source of the feeling or what encouraged her to feel it, but she was now decidedly nervous. She looked out the window to the evening sky, wondering what it could mean.

“What’s the matter little dove? You looked worried.” Samuel looked to his daughter with a perplexed smile. She seemed so on edge out of no where.

“I don’t know Papa, I can’t help but feel there is something wrong.” Molly’s frown deepened as she turned back to the window looking out.

“Oh come now, everything is fine! Lestrade will be perfectly happy and will have nothing to remember this night by except for an excruciating hang over the next morning I promise you that.” Dr. Hooper laughed remembering his own lack of memories of his own stag night. To this day he still can’t remember why a goat ended up in his father’s bedroom, wearing his breeches. “Come sit down here beside me and finish reading this medical journal. I need to know you’re opinion upon the procedures and whether or not we should take it into consideration with our own process.” Molly dutifully came to sit by him and once again resumed her reading. At every suspicious noise she started and the words upon the page were swimming in her worry, no longer making any sense.

When the bell rang at their door a short time later, Molly’s heart was in her throat. Poor Dr. Hooper was just up and ready to make for bed when it did. Sherlock pushed his way into the room with Lieutenant Jones hot on his heels. He took a moment to whisper to the lieutenant before standing behind him with a contrite mien. Sherlock Holmes may be many things but contrite was never one of them.

“What is the matter?” Sherlock and the lieutenant shared a nervous look to one another. “Oh, heavens sake! Just tell me.” Molly stamped her foot in anger, she needed to know what was going on and she needed to know now.

“I’m sorry, ma’am to have to tell you this, but the Detective Inspector has been injured while he, Mr. Watson and Mr. Holmes were giving chase to a suspect of Mr. Holmes’s.” The lieutenant removed the bobbin hat from his head and began wringing it in his hands in a punishing way. Molly’s face dropped and she covered shocked cry with her hand. Her father was immediately at her side. Sherlock came forward to take her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Molly. It was an accident. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong moment.” Molly applied pressure to his hands once before letting go. She then reared back and struck him soundly upon the cheek so hard his head flew to the side and he saw stars. Sherlock grabbed his face letting a single moan of pain come out. He looked thoroughly chastised, and avoided looking Molly in the eye.

“I don’t know what to say to you Sherlock right now, but we must away to wherever he is. I just can't believe you would do such a thing to him tonight of all nights. He was supposed to be off duty." Molly's eyes flared in anger. The hand squeezing her shoulder, her father, was the only thing that stopped her from hitting Sherlock further.

"Please, Molly let-" Sherlock tried to beg for forgiveness, or at least explain what would happen but was silenced by Molly with a hand.

"I need to be by his side, now. We haven’t a moment to lose.” Molly was followed quickly by the men as she grabbed her wrap and nothing else, the chill of the autumn was upon them but in that moment she was numbed against it with the need to see Lestrade.

She was followed and helped into the waiting carriage by Sherlock and her father and just as quickly as she was told the news she was whisked away to the Watsons’ place as Sherlock explained John wanted to perform the surgery himself. Molly closed her eyes in a silent prayer seeing the townhouse they would soon occupy as the coached drove passed.

 

\---

 

In the time that it took for Sherlock to fetch Molly, John had made quick work of stitching the wound closed, and for Lestrade’s sake it was an incredibly clean slice. Mary was supporting the man with an arm around his torso and his other arm resting on her shoulder, his weakness from losing blood left him with little strength to sit himself up. While she supported the man, she passed John clean instruments and cloths. John Watson, unlike many other doctors and surgeons in London, had begun to practice better sanitary methods of doctoring and all of his patients would be healthier and live long lives thanks to it. It was moments like these that Mary couldn’t be prouder of him.

A ruckus was heard downstairs as Mary noted Molly’s worried voice carrying up the stairs. Mary laid a pillow behind Lestrade’s back for support and gave them both pained looks. It was her suggestion the lady be brought and she would be the one to fetch her. “I’ll go get her, give him a break from sitting up John.” Lestrade sighed in relief grateful to lay back.

Mary came down the stairs, wiping at her hands to rid herself of any of the blood that still remained. Molly noted the bloody rag and her pink hands with a gulp.

“How is he, Mary?” Molly questioned with a nervous breath.

“He’s doing just fine Molly.” She gave an aggravated eye to Lieutenant Jones and Sherlock who were both standing around now with nothing to do. “I’m afraid we didn’t know what we were facing until the blood was cleaned away. The bleeding from the muscle is to blame but that’s normal. It’s a very minor wound, and Lestrade has been bragging the whole time about how he’s seen much worse.” At her father’s chuckle at Lestrade’s expense, Molly immediately relaxed putting her hands to her chest to stop her rapidly beating heart. She had never been so scared in her whole life.

“May I come up to see him?” Molly questioned, her big brown eyes pleading.

“Of course, Molly! He’s going to be your husband you have every right to see him.” Mary took a warm arm and putting it around her friend, guiding the woman up the stairs and to the surgery. She rubbed her hand up and down Molly’s arm as they approached the room. “I warn you now my dear, that the blood looks worse that it actually is now. I know you’re no stranger to blood but seeing it and Lestrade in the same instance will be entirely different trust me. Oh and the man looks pale but I can assure you he’s fine.” Mary finished just as they were walking into the room. Lestrade was naked from the waist up, once again sitting up to allow John to work. John looked to making smooth work of suturing the wound closed on Lestrade‘s back, Molly noted the stitches he was using curiously. She watched Mary come around and hold Lestrade up, and he made a face that seemed grateful for the support, like it pained him to support himself. Molly put her hand to her abdomen just under her breast where she felt suddenly pained. She didn’t know why as she felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. It was then that Lestrade met her face with a warm, relieved smile. Like somehow it was only her presence he required to mend his wounds and not the sutures the John was applying to his shoulder.

“Bloody like that bugger Sherlock to turn my stag night into a bleedin’ stake out for a suspect in one of his cases. Then something like this happens.” Lestrade gave her a crooked grin trying to seem more full of energy than he actually did feel, lifting his opposite shoulder in a half shrug. He felt absolutely exhausted. It felt like he could sleep for a year. But he would only do that when it was Molly he could curl up with at night. Then he could sleep in bed with her for a year wholeheartedly and not care.

“How are you feeling?” Molly questioned willing herself not to step forward and get in the way of John and Mary’s work. John was almost done but he was being careful so it felt like he was taking forever. “You look awful.” Molly said smiling even though her eyes were filling up with tears. She fought the urge to cry, trying to be brave so Lestrade wouldn’t try to hide things like this from her in the future. She could tell from other scars that littered his naked abdomen and arms that this wasn’t his first run in with the wrong end of a blade and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. Her heart warmed at his half chuckle. He hissed when John pulled at the stitch he was making due to the movement of Lestrade laughing.

“I told you hold still.” John admonished, sending an apologetic smile over his shoulder in Molly’s direction. His hiss was almost Molly’s undoing, keep it together Molly. John was just two stitches away from being finished.

“I’m fine love, really. I’ve seen worse, believe me. Nothing I can’t handle.” Lestrade gave her a pleasant, confident smile. But it did little to help her fight the feeling of worry that was threatening to overtake her. It was then she heard the snip of surgeons scissors cutting thread and she knew it was over.

“There now! All done!” John announced to the room happily. The wound was quickly sterilized and adeptly bandaged by Mary and she put a fresh albeit ill fitting shirt on Lestrade and his jacket over his shoulders before both she and John went about cleaning up the surgery.

“Well now do I get a chance to greet my fiancée or not?” Lestrade chuckled reaching out for Molly, eager as ever to have the woman in his arms. Really this night was a disaster when he had anticipated spending it kissing Molly to pieces in the first place. Now he was just anxious to hold her.

In the three steps it took Molly to cross the room she slowly crumbled until she was practically laying on top of Lestrade, and on his bad shoulder. She cried into his chest, releasing all the negative feelings she had held onto since Sherlock and Lieutenant Jones had delivered the news. Lestrade rubbed her back with his bad hand soothingly, making her cry harder, even though his shoulder twinged at the movement. “Oh now my little mouse don’t cry. I told them not to come get you, I didn’t want you to cry.” Lestrade told her sharing a pointed look with Mary, who was smiling at the scene completely unfazed.

“No!” Molly protested looking up at him from her position on his chest. She closed the gap between them with an enthusiastic relieved kiss. Lestrade deepened it, letting the room fade away, his good hand cradling her head, while his bad arm gently embraced her body. Mary and John made a hasty exit, sending the couple a knowing glance, and sharing a warm look upon their exit. They descended the stairs to allow the couple some privacy and to let the men downstairs know the Detective Inspector was feeling very fine indeed.

Molly broke the kiss first, using Lestrade’s weakened condition to kiss him all over his jaw and neck repeating the epitaph of “no” over and over again. Lestrade groaned tipping his head back to allow her better access as she continued this down his neck over his pulse points and Adam‘s apple. Her delicate touches were meant to be sweet but she little knew exactly what she was doing to the man, she was entirely innocent of it. He cursed his weakened state for giving into her ministrations but also for his body having little or no reaction to it, too tired to process the little electric bolts of pleasure he was feeling under his skin from her kisses. “I don’t ever want you to keep me away from you when you’re sick or injured, Greg. I don’t care how much I cry. I won‘t be kept in the dark! No matter how much it pains me. To be completely unwitting of something like this would be worse than feeling the way I do right now.” Molly sobbed a very little at the end of her speech touching the bandage that was keeping the wound on his shoulder clean. Lestrade rubbed up and down her back soothingly again with a soft smile. As much as he was loathe to admit to himself, it was nice to have a woman to worry over him. Rebecca was only ever concerned of how his running into danger effected herself, never about him as Molly was worrying over him right now. But how he hated to see his little mouse cry.

“I know you want to feel like you‘ll be a dutiful wife Molly, but I just don’t think I could live with myself if I was the reason you cried, like tonight. I thought I could content you with little things like mending those little scratches and feeding me the first night of our courtship, the night of the Greyston murder.” Lestrade grimaced rubbing his thumb across the tear tracks on her cheek. Molly crumbled once again at this intimate motion.

“I know you don’t want to see me cry, Greg. It’s just such a relief to know you’re okay. I was so worried. I had a feeling and to know that it was true, I‘m just glad the worst I imagined wasn‘t true.” Molly sighed rubbing her tear stained cheeks upon the shoulder of the borrowed shirt. She wrinkled her nose, smelling the unfamiliar smells of John’s cologne and homey smells instead of Lestrade’s manly, rakish wisps. She leaned back admiring the way Lestrade’s more muscular form sat in John’s shorter and smaller shirt. She ran her hands down the buttons that were straining against her fiance’s well-muscled chest fetchingly, causing Lestrade to gulp. “Let’s get you back to your apartment where you can be more comfortable. I don’t know how much longer I can contain myself if you’re to be under my roof alone with me.” Molly bit her lip as she popped the third button down on his shirt revealing his chest and the small thatch of silver hair peppering the tan skin. She caressed it slightly with a finger meeting his eyes with a becoming blush on her cheeks. Lestrade groaned, sore with the pain of not being able to be up for much of this at all.

“Stop torturing me, Molly, I beg you. Mercy, mercy!” Molly giggled a tinkling laugh at his obvious surrender. Men were quite too easy at times. The tension in the room thus broken it was time to move on.

“Very well, I’ll have pity on my future husband because he is injured. Now lets leave all this behind us and get you mended for the wedding.” Molly concluded with a content sigh. She used one of the cloths around the room to tie a sling around Lestrade’s neck. The man gratefully put his arm in the sling and Molly tied it off once he was holding it in a comfortable place, then she helped him out of the room and down the stairs to the living room where everyone was waiting for the couple anxiously.

Upon their entry, Lestrade hugged Mary and John thanking them for their help to which they both shrugged off in a tired, satisfied way. They were only too glad to help.

“Keep an eye on that shoulder and let me know if the soreness you’ll feel lasts more than a few days.” John said patting his good shoulder affectionately.

“And you are taking off tomorrow sir, John’s already set Lieutenant Jones off to confirm it with Detective Dimmock and we were told he wouldn’t leave the man’s house without confirmation that he would help you. So you are to rest and be in bed tomorrow.” Mary said with her hands on her hips in a motherly way. Lestrade grumbled his assent to having decisions made for him reluctantly.

“Well I think we’ve trespassed upon your hospitality long enough, come Lestrade lets get you into the cab I hailed while we were waiting.” Sherlock announced impatiently taking the arm that was around Molly’s shoulders to help in assisting Lestrade to the waiting cab. Molly takes the other side, noting the contorted contrite look on Sherlock’s face still hadn’t faded. They were almost out the door when Mary called Molly back into the house, Dr. Hooper took the side of Lestrade that Molly had been supporting and the men set about helping the poor sod into the cab. Molly was pulled into the hall by Mary who handed her a piece of paper, on it were the instructions for tying the bandages onto Lestrade’s shoulder and supplies she would need to do so. Molly took the women in her arms thankful that she had such an ally beside her.

“Go on home now Molly dear, and bring Lestrade back next week so we can have those stitches out before the wedding.” Molly kissed her cheek in farewell, grateful for her friend beyond words. She hopped into the cab and they were off on the short trip to Lestrade’s apartment.

Once there Molly and Sherlock dropped the man off onto his bed in a heap, leaving her father in the cab on the street. Molly barely got his shoes, jacket and shirt off before the man was snoring into his pillows. She pulled the covers over his form and turned to see Sherlock stirring the fire. He then moved to the chair sitting in it with graceful ease.

“If you want to leave Molly I will keep an eye on him here for the night.” Sherlock said already settling into the chair and into the pose for a long tour of his mind palace, needing the night to sort through and store away these guilty feelings for further examination in a self-reflective moment. Molly nodded making her way out. She knew that due to this set back he had a lot of things to consider. She took his shoulder under her hand squeezing, Sherlock covered her hand with his meeting her eyes with his pained ones. They were no longer filled with anger, but were just tinged with exhaustion, the emotions of the night wearing on her physically. Molly’s friendly eyes were probably something he felt he didn’t deserve at that moment, she was only grateful that both he and John were there when the accident happened to immediately come to aid. Nothing bad happened, not really, it was just one of those things that happens. Life happens, and soon life would be happening to Molly in the form of their marriage. Molly left the man to his thinking, and her fiance to his sleeping.

 

\---

 

In the morning, she woke her father early and they set out on her mission. First she would purchase the supplies on Mary’s list then she would go to Lestrade’s apartment and see to his care. First she would bandage his shoulder, and then she would feed him. She was a woman on a mission as she forced her father to accompany her through the whole process until they found themselves at the stoop of Lestrade’s apartment building. Once inside she found herself stopped at the foot of the stairs to go up to her fiance’s apartment by a dutiful yet fiesty daughter of the family that owned the apartment house.

“Excuse me, Miss. The man that left the Detective Inspector’s apartment said he’s not be disturbed by anyone. The poor man was injured last night and needs his rest.” Molly tried not to let herself become jealous noting the look in the young girl’s eyes that was something akin to yet slightly more than hero worship, and made a move to get past the girl. She blocked Molly from all sides with a laundry basket.

“Look, I know you mean well, little girl. But I am the man’s fiancee and I must see to his injury, now if you please stand aside.” Molly forcibly pushed back the girl and didn’t stop at her continued protests, or the hurried footsteps and her father’s that followed. She didn’t get more than two steps towards the bed before the upstart halted her once again. “I will murder that Sherlock Holmes for putting me through all this, guilty puppy act or not.” Molly’s angered simmered into a grumble, her father simply patted her comfortingly on the shoulder.

“I understand you mean well miss, but if you are indeed his fiancee, then the Detective Inspector will tell us that himself.” She did give the girl credit for protecting her fiance’s privacy, even if it wasn’t necessary.

“Fine, wake my poor fiance from his well deserved sleep.” Molly sighed, finally giving up. The girl went over to Lestrade’s side. She shook his side, calling out to the man when all she received was a sleepy moan and the accompanying rasp of “Molly.” Molly in turn tried to not blush and stifled a laugh. Once Lestrade woke up completely the girl explained why they were there and pointed in Molly’s direction.

“Beg, pardon sir for waking you. But this woman claims that she urgently needed to see you and that you’re her fiance. Is she your lady, sir?” The girl questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“She is indeed.” Lestrade smiled a proud, crooked smile propping himself up with his pillows with help from the servant girl, once he was settled he reached out to Molly who followed when beckoned. She looked longingly at the man and was about to kiss him when Dr. Hooper broke the spell upon the couple, clearing his voice.

“I believe our brave Detective Inspector will be in need of a good, hearty English breakfast this morning. Why don’t you go see to it, young lady, and bring us all a spot of tea while you are down there.” Dr. Hooper said fondly bowing to the girl as she curtsied to excuse herself from the room.

“Oh, Millie?” Lestrade called to the girl who turned at being called. “Tell your mother and father that I would like to have an audience with them later today. There will obviously be a change in my situation, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to them until today.” The girl smiled sadly walking out of the room, closing the door behind her. She set off to get Lestrade breakfast and to bring his new family tea. Her mother would be very upset at Lestrade’s moving on from their house. The man’s presence allowed her mother to sleep rather soundly at night, not used to the London people or climate. Millie wouldn’t admit to herself that she would miss seeing the handsome detective inspector around her parent’s home. No she would not.

Molly spent the next week in this attitude, helping to heal Lestrade’s wound. She made sure he stopped by after work and bandaged him under her father’s watchful eye. In the middle of all this chaos she still managed to complete the items for the wedding she had scheduled. She was a faithful nurse to Lestrade until the stitches in his shoulder could be removed by John the next week. The wound healed well enough for Lestrade to have the final fitting of his suit, just in time for the wedding day.

 

\---

 

The imposing figure of Maxwell Lestrade was pacing back and forth inside his study. He had skimmed through the papers for a month straight, anticipating the announcement of the wedding of his estranged brother and his strumpet slut fiancee. This was not to be borne, his brother never responded to his judgements upon the matter so he was either ignoring him entirely or was going to go through with the farce despite all Maxwell had to say in objection to it as head of the family. How dare he on either account! He didn’t need to turn to the announcements page to see if Lestrade’s wedding was there. The paper printed it on the front page, proud of the bravest and best of their Scotland Yard. It wasn’t enough for his brother to have read his letter. The idiot was going to go forward with it anyway and was flaunting it in front of Maxwell in such an infamous manner. He just needed word that it was official so he could formally make his complaint at the wedding itself. This announcement was all the inducement he needed.

Once he sat down and opened up the paper a smaller slip of paper fell out unnoticed onto his desk. He gave an outraged cry seeing the announcement of their wedding was the largest article on the page. His estranged brother was now flying in the face of everything Maxwell Lestrade deemed morally just and right in the word. How dare he. How dare he! It was in the fuming rage that Maxwell Lestrade gave note of the slip of paper that had fallen out of the newspaper. He wasn’t angry enough to not give the paper a passing gaze, which was a misfortune to all of his plans for ruining the happiest day of Gregory and Molly’s lives. Within the paper was a note, that appeared to be waiting for him and him alone, placed there by a mysterious force. Written in very precise, purposeful, elegant, and exact handwriting was the following:

> “ _If you seek to interfere with your brother‘s marriage to the lovely Miss. Molly Hooper, I shall seek out to make your social and professional lives an absolute degradation and misery. No one shall seek association with you whether it be business or in the ballroom. This you can consider a promise and a certainty. Molly Hooper is not without friends in high places and you would do well to remember that, sir. We may not travel in the same circles but I believe you can understand the power behind the name as I sign this note,_
> 
> _Mr. Mycroft Holmes Esq._ ”

As Maxwell read the note his face slowly turned white, before becoming a ruddy shade of crimson upon its completion. The eldest Lestrade grumbled, the monocle that had a permanent place in his eyes socket, popped out from its perch. He tore up the note in a rage, a bellowing growl was ripped out of his body from somewhere deep inside and bounced off the walls of the entire manor making several servants within it shudder from nerves, and began going on a rampage throughout the house. He pronounced that nothing good could come of the marriage, cursing the Holmes family and anyone associated with them for stepping into his path and plans of objecting to the wedding ceremony taking place. His boys followed behind him trying to stop his fuming anger from boiling over into the breaking of things or the manhandling of servants. For as much as they resembled him and their mother, they had not inherited his anger, merely his spirits that translated into unfortunate arrogance.

His wife used the opportunity to sneak into his office, her willowy, scant figure threw long diminished shadows upon the walls, the fires roaring in the looming fireplace of the study did not need being told to only cast proper shadows when only in the company of the master of the manor. Even the fires quelled to his authority. The meek woman reached out with her frail and misshapen fingers and opened up the paper that had been forcibly crumbled by the boorish man. She carefully smoothed it out, her long face for once taking on a small hopeful smile as she scanned the paper, and came upon the rather large but tasteful announcement of the wedding. She was glad that at least one person in her life was able to stand up to her husband. It gave her hope for her own future. For once, the atmosphere around the drafty, cold manor appeared not so imposing. She took the feeling to her soul delicately, like one would encourage embers to glow right before they would burst into flame. Hope could be a dangerous thing when living under the influence of Maxwell Lestrade. She learned long ago not to let the hope of anything good lie to her. But now, in the dark fiery glow inside her husband’s study, she found solace in this little victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is!!! I wasn't going to have Molly hit Sherlock at first, something stopping me from doing it. Probably because I think she would be just a little bit of a different Molly if she was in the Victorian Era, more likely that I would would rather hug Sherlock than slap him. But the lovely Sam_Mayer convinced me otherwise. And she is right the slap does at a bit of something especially dramatic to the chapter! I like! I have to remember to have Sherlock be slapped or punched whenever possible. 
> 
> I hope you all will like the next chapter... I think you will!!! *knowing smile!!!* If you can picture my smile, think Spongebob when he discovered that Squidward actually likes krabby patties. "You like them don't you Squidward."
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	19. Silver Fox & Molly Mouse Join in Holy Matrimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are cordially invited by Dr. Samuel Hooper and his sister Evelyn to the wedding of their daughter and niece Molly Elizabeth Hooper to Detective Inspector Gregory Reginald Lestrade.
> 
> Will the wedding happen? Will no one object to the union?
> 
> Will there be no drama at the reception? 
> 
> Find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleading and abject apologies are in order my fair readers!!! I have been on an unintended hiatus, through no fault of my own. Well I guess I should admit that its not entirely true, I don't have the greatest track record with finishing projects. But as a goal of NaNoWriMo I'm going to finish this as well as all those one shots that I have to write. And work on my novel in the space of working on all of this. Writing demands to be written and to write everyday, no matter what is written is more important than having written nothing at all. I've also been unpacking, job hunting, just general things to try and settle myself here in my new life in PA, though if I were really serious I doubt that beyond work there will be much "settling." 
> 
> This just also happens to be my birthday!! So I guess as a gift not only to myself but also to all of you my readers I am posting this happy chapter. I do love weddings and I hope you will appreciate that. So here it is!! The wedding! I hope you all like it!! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 19**

**Silver Fox & Molly Mouse Join in Holy Matrimony  
**

 

\---

 

_The Wedding Day, the Hooper Residence_

_Autumn, London 1891_

 

\---

 

The wedding day of Detective Inspector Gregory Reginald Lestrade to Miss. Molly Hooper dawned bright and crisp. The air smelled of apple cider and warm cinnamon buns, as leaves were blown off the trees by sudden and fierce gusts. Mother nature was shaking her hair and ridding herself of the fiery summer red, orange and yellow leaves that had absorbed the last warm remains of the summer heat. The oppressive summer was gone away, Indian summer shivered away for morning frosts. But the autumn was still in its prime, yet to give way to the harsh dirge of deathly winter. Harvests were a fine thing this season, everything around the social affair of the wedding day seemed to burst with color and light brimming with the quiet, companionable warmth that only autumn can give.

Molly woke with the sun beginning its bright assent, looking to the happy sun and cloudless azure sky with an equally bright smile. The floor was cold but not terribly so, as she slipped her feet into white bridal slippers. Molly saw the beginnings of a brilliant, cerulean autumn sky and hoped the weather would stay that way until the wedding in the late afternoon. Knowing our fair London, one never knew if blue skies would stay blue. She heard the familiar bustling out her window of autumn harvest sales. The local market was already giving off the bustling sounds of activity as merchants profited with the bountiful harvest that came in this year. Carts, vendors and store fronts were bursting with summer and autumn vegetables, jars overwhelmed with vegetables, jellies, jams, preserves, and honeys, while pies sat filled to bursting, freshly baked and warm in shop windows. Molly hoped, pouring a tea by the warm fire, that this would be a good omen for things to come.

She was a bride that didn‘t know quite what to do with herself this morning, she couldn‘t sit still yet didn‘t know where to start. She had made sure to take care of everything down to the very last detail before this day, leaving herself with nothing to do. Now she wished she had saved some sort of activity for the morning. All of the decorations, favors, candles, and foodstuffs for the reception were already taken care of, the church had been prepared the day before by the bridal party and now Molly fingered the skirt of her dress where it was hanging by the fire to press out some last minute wrinkles. There was no need to see to her hair until absolutely necessary and she was much too anxious and excited to read a book. Her Aunt Evelyn would stop by to help her with packing, dressing and her hair, in the course of the afternoon. She couldn’t even help in the process of assisting her father to settle into a life without her. She had the solemn promise of Aunt Evelyn that she would no longer need to take care of anything and neither would her father have need to worry. The care of his allowances and accounts were now being seen to by Lestrade’s most trusted lawyer and stewart Mr. Bramwimple, a man she liked and trusted immediately upon meeting to show him the accounts as they stood and to let him into the confidences of how she kept her father‘s books. She smiled in memory of Mr. Bramwimple sitting almost head to head with her as she reviewed the accounts and her process in keeping them in order, how she managed to stretch funds and keep her father comfortable on such stringent economies. The man was beyond impressed with her skills and took little encouragement to praise them, doing so emphatically to Lestrade, much to her future husband’s glowing pride. Lestrade also took the care of hiring a full time housekeeper, Mrs. Sara Morris. She was a widowed woman a few years younger than her father who needed occupation and a place to live. She could take Molly’s room without much bother and see to the running of the house, instructing the new little maid Ginny of her duties and in the scheduling of the weekly menus with Bessie. The woman’s things were taking up room in the kitchen to be moved in by men Lestrade hired after today and the only things of Molly’s to remain were whatever she would need for the day. All of her clothes, of which there was a paltry amount, jewelry, consisting of only a few of her mother’s things, her crosses, and her engagement ring that she took a moment to admire in the window., books, and the rest were already at the house she would enter as Mrs. Lestrade. She was to pack what little remained with her Aunt later, as well as her things she was wearing now and that would be put in the carriage to come along with her on the honey moon. All of it was very much arranged, all with very little inconvenience or bother to herself or her person.

This was her last day as mousey Miss. Hooper. Soon she would be the darling, shy wife of Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade, along with all the social duties and privileges that came with it. She dreaded the duties she would need to perform, looking just so, socializing, and impressing gentlemen and their wives that would all influence Lestrade’s career. She dreaded the burden but she would bear worse than all that came with being a Detective Inspector’s wife to be the wife of Greg Lestrade, especially when he had taken care of her and those she loved so thoroughly thus far just asking for her love in return. Yes, everything was taken care of now and quite out of Molly’s hands. She knew from now on, she would lack for nothing and Lestrade would make sure she almost never lifted a finger unless it was to take care of her family or to take a scalpel to the bodies on the slabs of the Hooper Residence. She was quite the lucky woman indeed.

The thought of bodies downstairs, and the work her father had yet to do filled her with the sudden urge to put scalpel to flesh. She wanted for activity and there was nothing stressful or overbearing about simply preparing the bodies for her father’s investigations, she had gone through the process so often she could perform the simple ‘y’ cut into a cadaver’s chest seamlessly. Her father would probably keep late hours tonight, not liking being without his daughter this evening. The thought cut her to the quick, giving her pause as she came to a halt out in the hall near her father’s room. She opened it to see that he had already roused. His room looked far more lived in than hers currently and she looked to the environs of the room fondly, reeking of her father’s gentlemanly taste and his comfortable smells, her eyes slightly misty. She was only a visitor here now, a relative, yet she knew all the nooks, crannies, crevices, and secrets of this house like the back of her hand. How was she supposed to start again somewhere new, with Lestrade and start this new relationship with him? She was completely out of her depth and afraid, like many brides and grooms before her. It didn’t feel good to linger upon this sad train of thought, not when today was supposed to be a happy day. Even though she was afraid of the future, she was excited, facing this all with Lestrade by her side. He would be sharing in the journey of marriage with her as well. That thought was assuring. With determination she went to the place she knew her father would very well be, where he kept his most private ruminations for, skipped down to the parlor and down the stairs to the labs. Her father was sitting, deep in thought at his desk, but noticed the change in the atmosphere upon her climbing down the stairs. He gave her an almost distant far away look. A distant, faded memory came to him suddenly and just as quick as it flickered across his face, Molly saw it fade away. He gave her a smile and beckoned her over. She came willingly, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly.

“Ah! My darling girl! Up at last. You slept in! Storing up all your energy for the wedding night then, eh?” Dr. Hooper waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his daughter, knowing exactly what takes place on wedding nights being a married man himself, once.

“Oh father!” Molly said pushing him gently on his shoulder before hugging him tight. She smelled the smells of her father infused upon his smoking jacket. Mint, vanilla tobacco, and his own smell mixed with the smells from the lab. It was familiar and safe. Something she hoped to imprint upon her brain before she could forget it. “It’s today, its finally here.” Dr. Hooper chuckled holding onto his daughter like she were still the young child she was in his eyes.

“Still time to cancel, if you’re having second thoughts.” At the shake of Molly’s head, Samuel sighed. “You looked like your mother coming down those stairs. Before we had you. Before…” Dr. Hooper cleared his throat for a moment before continuing. “I know she’s with you and I today.” Molly nodded, not being able to find words to say. “I could not have parted with you my dear, to anyone that was less of a good man than Greg. He makes me a proud father and I’m not even his father. I tell everyone who my daughter is marrying whether they want to know or not.” Dr. Hooper chuckled wetly as he pushed Molly back to look at her face. The tears in her eyes matched his own and they both cleared their throats awkwardly holding hands but looking around the room.

“Would you like me to work on the body here, Papa? Before I leave? I could open him up for you without much bother.” Molly smiled wiping at her eyes, eyeing the body of the 80-some-odd year old man that laid on the slab, who in a last minute fit decided to donate his body to modern science and the only doctor in the area working on the dead was of course Molly‘s father. She wished she could be as calm as the stiff in front of her, but her nervous energy itched for some sort of occupation.

“Absolutely not, little mouse! You think me a simpleton! Aunt Evelyn would have both our heads if she came bustling in and found you dirty and up to your elbows in viscera and red stuff. No, we can’t have that. Come to the parlor and lets have conversation. I shall keep you occupied. I doubt we shall keep busy for very long but I ordered breakfast not long ago so it will pass the time.” Dr. Hooper regretfully led his daughter up the stairs and to the parlor. Shortly after they settled in, a small breakfast was served as they laughed, reminiscing over the exploits of their Evelyn while planning the wedding.

Shortly after breakfast, Dr. Hooper declared that he could no longer keep still and asked Molly to accompany him on a walk until the early afternoon. Nothing strenuous just a quick walk through the local park. They dressed and set out down the private lane leading to the park and strolled merrily, enjoying the sounds of animals scurrying to feed and burrow for the oncoming hibernation. Molly and her father went back and forth identifying the chirps, whirls and calls of birds. Other than that they were silent, until her father pointed her towards a bench.

“Did I ever tell you why I settled the family here in this part of London?” Dr. Hooper questioned once they were comfortable looking around at the noon sun setting the leaves above them ablaze. It had always puzzled her, the area wasn’t exactly poor, but her father had been a gentleman, and it would not have been a first choice for a gentleman being so near a market district as they were, but this area had always been home to her.

“I believe you said the price was convenient.” Molly looked to her father with a raised eyebrow.

“Well that was just an added bonus, and for a good reason too. I wanted to be close to this park. Your mother and I came here often in our courtship, preferring the private, quiet atmosphere of this little spot to the social, hubbub of Regent’s Park, also the nearby market was a favorite haunt of your mothers, loving to wheel and deal with the merchants. But there are so many parks and markets in London, I suppose any one of them would do. But this was our park, and the house we occupy then had just gone up for sale. The family wanted to be rid of it, and was selling it at a price that left me indeed a comfortable amount of cushion. I used it to pamper your mother a bit.” The Doctor smiled to his daughter sheepishly, as his daughter regarded his father with a surprised expression. “I knew that having chosen the career path I did, and your mother for some reason chose myself, I couldn’t afford to always give her everything that she had desired most in the world. So I bought her these.” Molly watched her father intrigued as he removed a red velvet pouch from the pocket of his coat. He pulled the tied pulls out of their knot and then slid open the pouch. Out tumbled from it and into his hand were a set of pearls, strung into a necklace. Hanging from the center was a perfect heart shaped ruby surrounded by diamonds. Molly looked at it in awe until her father reached out and hung it from her neck. Her eyes welled up with tears. This was the most expensive thing the man owned. Her father could sell it to provide for himself in the retirement he was facing, instead he was giving them to her. She didn’t have something old before the last missing piece of the puzzle, now it was complete and she was a bride ready to get married. “We agreed when you were born, that this pearly thing would be yours upon your wedding day. Silly, sentimental nonsense.” Dr. Hooper explained, clearing his throat. Molly flung her arms about her father and cried softly into his shoulder for a second. The legacy of her mother was something she didn’t think about often, but now more than ever she wished that her mother could have been here to see the woman she had become. Her father pulled back to look in her eyes. “Now you look more like her than ever.” Her father gave a watery chuckle, wiping at an eye with the back of his finger before wiping at her tears with a handkerchief.

“You were wrong you know,” at her father’s questioning gaze Molly explained. “There’s every reason in the world for Mama to have chosen you. You’re the best father and the best man in the world. Mama knew exactly the reason why she chose you. She loved you.” They hugged again, with smiles. Her father still tearful, wiping at his nose. “I only hope that Greg will continue to be as fine a gentleman as you, Papa.” Molly smiled to him. At this her father preened, his chest puffing out.

“Well, he does have awfully big shoes to fill.” Dr. Hooper looked down to their feet and Molly did the same with a smile. They started tapping on the pavement of the walk in a little dance. It was something they always did when she was little and he wanted to entertain her, after her mother’s death and he didn‘t know what to say. It was so familiar, when she lost her step she laughed and leaned into her father’s shoulder with her own. Abruptly her father rose from the bench. “Now come little dove, we must go about the chores for the day! You need to begin getting ready, and I have to go get dressed at Baker Street and check up on our nervous groom.” Dr. Hooper chuckled remembering how his hands shook before the ceremony.

“Greg can’t possibly be nervous!” Molly shook her head unbelieving as she wasn‘t nervous herself at all. And her father then commenced with the telling of the stories of himself and other grooms he had witnessed, as they strolled back to the Hooper Residence.

 

\---

 

Dr. Hooper left his excited and energetic daughter in the capable hands of her Aunt and was admonished by his sister to return to the house no later then half past three with the coach that would take her to the ceremony. He climbed the stoop of 221 on Baker Street, and knocked. Mrs. Hudson answered the door with a knowing smile and a great hug, sympathetic to the father of the bride, already dressed for the wedding. Samuel already heard the pacing upstairs. He pointed at the noise with a knowing laugh.

“Believe it or not that’s Sherlock pacing. The groom is in agony because he forgot cufflinks.” The two elders winked at each other conspiratorially. He removed his daughter’s present to the groom from his jacket and climbed the stairs. “I’ll bring tea up in a bit.” She shouted after him and went back into the kitchen to bustle around in it. Dr. Hooper made his way into the living quarters of 221B and noted the atmosphere. John was sitting calmly, no need for nerves now that he was married and was flipping through the paper. He was taking his time to enjoy it, this being his first and last time to do so today. Sherlock’s tall, agitated form was seen pacing about the room in an agitated state, curls shaking back and forth. Every ounce of his being railed against having to participate in yet another wedding. What an obnoxious thing, this human need to mate and pair off like penguins. Mycroft and Lieutenant Jones were both off to the side by the windows looking out upon the sunny cityscape. Upon Dr. Hooper’s entering, Sherlock noted him with relief.

Sherlock pointed at Lestrade indignantly. “Of all the details this man could forget, your new son-in-law has forgotten his cufflinks.” All the men said their hellos to the elder man once Sherlock had finished his diatribe and appeared to have been looking to elder man for a solution. Lestrade rose shamed from his seat and came over to hug his new father-in-law, who shot Sherlock a disapproving look before he laughed and just handed over the box to the dreadful looking man, shaking his head. Sherlock merely stood aghast. “I have trouble believing what could be so f-… Ah! Of course, clever Molly as always, its quite obvious really.” This perked John’s attention.

“Really, brother mine, it took you that long? Disgraceful.” Mycroft chimed in from across the room. He had known what was in the box the minute Dr. Hooper walked into the room. He turned away bored. Sherlock merely growled in his general direction.

“Really now this is a happy occasion!” Lieutenant Jones protested at the brothers’ behavior. John chuckled in the young man’s direction, throwing down his paper and looking over in Lestrade’s direction. He was still reading the card from Molly. John recalled his own gift from his wife, exactly what he wore this very moment. Cufflinks.

“Believe me Jonesy, best not get involved in squabbles between these two. And this is pretty tame for the two of them. They’re on their best behavior for the happy day.” Dr. Hooper eyed the group of men all severely until they all became mute. He watched proudly as the man opened up his present and unwrapped the gift. He opened the box and inside were cufflinks. just like his soon-to-be wife, clever Molly, to know that he hadn’t thought of them. He had his fathers pocket watch tucked into his vest, his boutonniere, tie pin, matching cravat and handkerchief in his outer breast pocket, bowler hat and shined shoes. Everything except his damn cufflinks, that were more than likely packed away at the house, well not anymore. Now he would have a very special pair of cufflinks. He fingered the two little things in the box they sat in and noticed that they were as good a set as they come. Black obsidian with a perfect round diamond in the center of each button link, the center of each bar having a diamond in it as well with engraved scrolls decorating the bars. They were silver and far more than he knew the Hoopers’ could have afforded. He looked to the older man with a shocked expression. Samuel smiled and came over taking the box from him.

“I don’t want you to become too overwhelmed with the gift but these are from the family, an inheritance of mine from my father, from his father and so on. The family wasn‘t always so poor you know, and I hope that my daughter marrying you means the bad luck that sprung up in the family will be lessening. Pass them along to your son, on his wedding day. Everyone always forgets about the cufflinks. That’s usually the tradition, unless you’re like me and are lucky enough to have only girls of course. Since you’re marrying my only daughter and she has very little use for them, I give them to you.” Lestrade embraced the man, overcome with emotion and not able to form a response. It was the openly generous and free love of his new family that always seemed to get the better of him. It wasn’t something he was familiar with except from his mother and it was something he continued to long for all his life. A small and simple family with no dysfunction as intense as his own, where they expressed their love and welcoming companionship as freely as the Hooper’s did with him. And now he had it again in this excellent man he could call father. He knew that Sherlock probably sought the same thing with the Watsons. Dr. Hooper took out the links and opened them. When Lestrade went to help, he shook his attempts off. “Let me help you with these. Don’t even attempt to put them on. I spent hours of one wedding searching for the bar of a cufflink because the man’s hands shook so much he scattered them about the floor. We pulled the house apart and removed three floorboards before we found the blasted thing.” Dr. Hooper recalled. “Look at you, hands shaking like the autumn leaves outside.” The Doctor chuckled sagely, and worked swiftly to fasten the links in the button holes adeptly. The Detective Inspector envied the man his calm hands, as he shook them impatiently at his side once Dr. Hooper finished applying the cufflinks to his shirt cuffs..

“Thanks, Dad! I don’t know what’s come over me, it took me hours just to get this far.” The groom did look good in his suit. He hugged his father thanking the man for the generous gift, once again.. He thumbed the cufflinks, “thank you for this, I shall cherish them.” Greg squeezed his father-in-law’s shoulder affectionately.

“Well,” Dr. Hooper cleared his throat. “You’ll be one of the family now.” It was then that Mrs. Hudson came into the room, bearing tea. She gasped looking to the men in their formal clothes, Lieutenant Jones in his dress uniform and Dr. Hooper yet to be dress.

“Dr. Hooper! You must get dressed! Its almost two!” Mrs. Hudson pointing to Sherlock’s bedroom that for the moment was also doubling as a changing room for both Lestrade and Dr. Hooper, to John‘s insistence and Sherlock‘s consternation. The good old doctor of the dead grumbled and made his way into the room and quickly dressed. He wasn’t ready to give his daughter away, and the impending moment was rushing upon him. As he buttoned the silk vest and donned the fine black coat, he was dressed. Just as quickly as he was ushered aside for changing he came back to find the men pouring celebratory drinks.

“Easy on those my boy!” Dr. Hooper warned Lestrade as he saw the man was asking for what was possibly a fourth shot of what smelled like damn decent scotch. He knew his son-in-law to be quite the energetic imbiber. “You’ll be thankful for that liquid courage now but regret it later during the wedding night. And I’ll wager you’ll be one lucky man with my daughter, thing’s fluttering about all excited and full of energy not an ounce of nervousness. She’s anticipating this evening I believe and I’d almost feel sorry for you poor bastard if I didn‘t feel that my daughter was the most beautiful young lady to walk to earth.” Dr. Hooper clapped the groom on the shoulder, the rest of the men guffawing at the Detective Inspector’s blush.

“Really, Dad? You had to go there.” Lestrade groaned, putting down his drink and squeezing his eyes closed, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He tried to think of anything to will his excitement away. All he’d been thinking and dreaming about since the day he proposed to Molly, and feeling her womanly figure underneath that makeshift dress in her bed, was the wedding night.

“Don’t worry, Greg. It’s worth the wait believe me. And Molly, I’m almost jealous man, its always the quiet ones. The rest of us all want the details when you get back.” John encouraged handing a drink to Dr. Hooper and clinking their glasses together. The doctor looked aghast at the mention of knowing details, downed the shot and asked for another, having to play catch up with the boys. One more shot and he felt a delightful warmth that was entirely satisfying spreading through him. Just right, no more drinks until the reception were needed as he waved away a third shot. Dr. Hooper looked down at his watch and saw it was nearly three.

“Well son, I have to leave you and get back to our little mouse. Don’t worry I’ll make sure she gets to the church on time. Another half hour and you’ll be at the church yourself. See you then.” Lestrade hugged the man ferociously glad to have a father figure in his life once again, and Dr. Hooper saluted to the men seeing himself out.

 

\---

 

Back at the Hooper Residence Molly was sitting at her old vanity still in her robe and was as still and patient as possible as her Aunt affixed her hair and added the finishing piece. It was a rather expensive hair pin that was encrusted with pearls, diamonds and ceramic roses. Molly’s hair was done in a similar fashion the hair she wore the night at the Royale, only this was softer, more romantic with loose tendrils and curls falling around her face and neck. It didn’t have as many braids or pins to secure it, and Aunt Evelyn did that on purpose. The last thing a lady needs to be doing is fishing for bobby pins on her wedding night, her aunt announced when Molly questioned her methods. Molly blushed at this, her fingers digging into the cushion until her knuckles turned white. The wedding night was unimaginable to her, seeming to be eons away in time, when in reality it was just a few hours away, and with no mother to speak to her of it, she shared a look to her Aunt in the mirror. Unfortunately, her Aunt, while not in the most experienced of ways, knew a thing or two of what takes place between men and women when married. Having lived to see many a marriage prosper and fizzle turning cold in her day, being the person many married women came to talk and confess things to, she was well aware of the ingredients that went into romance and the bearing of children.

Aunt Evelyn pulled a chair before Molly and held the girl‘s cold hands in her own, seeing her niece’s quiet distress. She didn‘t blame her niece for worrying over the inevitable event at all. “I know dear I don’t have as much experience as married women do-”

“Oh Aunt Evelyn, please don’t be like that.” Molly pleaded knowing it was the mother or matriarch’s duty to prepare the virgin bride for what she will face when sharing relations with her husband.

“Now dear, let me finish. I’m not as experienced as women who are married, but I’ve learned a great deal listening to them talk. I also know more than you think I do, though I have experienced the act myself only once.”

Aunt Evelyn’s face changed to something uncharacteristically hard for a second, bracing herself against an oncoming rush of memories. The Evelyn that Molly knew like a mother was not the Evelyn that graced the world in her youth. She had loved, only once. That man was a man whose name is never spoken by her brother or herself. It’s a grave secret among what remains of the family Hooper. The man flattered her, courted her, or at least gave all the appearance of courting her. Then the night before the wedding, desperately begged and coerced her into trading his assurances and words of love for her favors. The next day he never showed for the wedding, no one could find him, until the as of yet not-Doctor Hooper found him at his club, fencing. When Samuel approached the man to make good on his promise to his sister, the man claimed he wouldn’t go near her now that she was no better than a plucked rose that had wilted. Dr. Hooper challenged him to a duel, defended his sister’s honor valiantly and won. The man formally apologized to Evelyn, but it was all forced. His words were hollow, the deed meant nothing to him, and his reputation soon became known around town as he did the very same thing to other good society girls that he did to Evelyn before finally being chased from good society practically at gun point. Some of them flourished despite his fiendish ways, marrying well. Others like Evelyn were confined to spinsterhood, not pretty, rich, friendly, or talented enough to make being courted by the other single men worth the bother now that they were sullied. But Evelyn didn’t run away to the country and live amongst relatives like some, she maintained relationships with all of the friends she currently had, that were married and climbed to the social position she now maintained with alacrity. Molly listened to this story horrified, she had no idea that her Aunt suffered so in her youth, no wonder she always avoided questions when Molly asked. “And now you know.” Evelyn concluded with a heavy sigh and a sad, sweet smile.

“How come you never told me, Aunt Evelyn?” Molly questioned, they shared almost everything until this moment. Now there were no secrets between the two women.

“My dear girl, you weren’t old enough to understand, and it only became a necessity to tell you just now.” Aunt Evelyn explained patting Molly’s hands. She took them both in the hand that laid on top of them and squeezed affectionately.

“I can’t promise you that it won’t be painful at first little mouse, but don’t run away from it. Lestrade and you are in love, he’s a man of the world and good’un. He’ll make up for it all and more so I dare say the way he looks at you like a hungry cat that‘s cornered a field mouse.” Aunt Evelyn laughed when Molly hid her blushing face. This only made Molly blush harder and Evelyn laugh even harder. The laughter was a great tension reliever. “Now let’s finish your hair and get your dress on, it’s almost three thirty and its time you were off to the church.” Aunt Evelyn tucked in the last stray hairs and prepared the dress, then looked to Molly’s expectantly. With a fortifying breath, Molly approached the sea of white before her. Molly stepped into the dress, and allowed her Aunt to button and lace her into it. Once it was on, her Aunt bustled about putting away her things in her travel trunk. Her night things, slippers, old brushes, the new mother of pearl set that Lestrade gave her as his wedding gift, all were packed away. Molly fingered the card, wanting to pack it when Aunt Evelyn took it away and added it to her things, already away inside the trunk. The card was a simple one, inside there weren’t any long declarations of love or wishes for their future, there didn’t need to be. It had simply read, “My lady fair, let these allow your inner beauty to shine outward. Always” and underneath it he signed it Greg with an x. It was so terribly simple and just like him that Molly was overcome. She would cherish it and the new brushes always. She was glad her Aunt read her mind and packed it as well. She finished adjusting the front of her dresss in the mirror, her Aunt made sure it laid right in the back, as Molly affixed the jewelry she would wear for the day and just like that Molly was ready to be married.

“Now doesn’t my little mouse look like a beautiful bride,” Aunt Evelyn smiled, wistfully, with sparkled eyes looking at her niece in the reflection of the mirror. Having no daughter of her own, Evelyn Hooper brimmed with a similar delight and took in the moment just as she assumed she would had she been a mother. No one would assume her pride in Molly’s beauty as lacking that of a mother’s. Her aged hands smoothed down the invisible wrinkles as she savored the last few moments that she could in the last vestiges of Molly’s innocence that remained. For the last few minutes alone with her niece, Evelyn Hooper absorbed the feeling that Molly was still the little pink and white bundle her brother proudly displayed to her the day Molly was born. She was equally proud of the woman Molly was in same instance, a confusing feeling made more omnipresent by the dress that had been made for the occasion. She then helped put the coat on, and the bride was ready to go to church.

There was the actual dress underneath for the reception that had cap sleeves of ivory silk embroidered with delicate lavender flowers and white knotted wreaths of leaves and stems, the satin was draped over lace petticoats to allow the lace to peer through on the bottom, she wore traditional Victorian boots underneath, the silk came around in the back to the bustle and a lace bow with a bundle of silk roses tied it off and it cascaded to the floor in a small train that was the current fashion. Her back was covered by mere lace and buttons, she had it designed like that on purpose knowing Lestrade would be devastatingly tortured at the sight of her porcelain, peaches and cream, skin through the material. The lace came together in the front with a pearl tied around high about her neck and a keyhole allowed a swath of skin to be exposed at her décolletage. Covering all of these little surprises for the ceremony was an all white linen coat that she now wore over it. It had an obscene amount of pearl buttons down the front from her neck until her hips where the coat parted and then fell down her back into an even longer cathedral train, perfect for autumn and the piety of the church and those of the London peerage that would be in attendance for the ceremony. All around the edges of the coat was a matching but more ornate pattern of embroidered lavender roses and white wreaths, the most ornate part accentuating the shape of the train. The long sleeves puffed out delicately at the top and then ended elegantly on the back of her hand at her index finger in a v, making her arms appear to be very elegant and long. It was such a beautiful piece of work that it was quite overwhelming to Molly how beautiful she appeared as the wearer of it. She had practically been dancing in excitement as Aunt Evelyn poured her into the dress as she was anticipating the look Lestrade would give her once she stepped into the church.

All of this dress was wonderfully made by the modiste that fitted her yellow dress for her. Aunt Evelyn brought them back and the modiste went to the very edge of ostentatious with all of the details. She thought Molly one of her most beautiful clients and wanted to make Lestrade drop dead apparently. It was all really quite beautiful, and her wedding dress to be worn at the reception was just a tiny bit on the yummy side of provocative. Aunt Evelyn had forced these details upon Molly a bit, stating that one never knew who would show up to a wedding, invited or not, and a lady always needs to be prepared for who she might see. Aunt Evelyn was affixing her cathedral length lace trimmed veil into her hair with a second comb that matched the first when her father walked in.

For a moment, he stood entirely frozen upon the spot, not being able to move or breathe. His daughter was not the same person, the grown woman and blushing bride, he greeted in this instance. The next few hours of the wedding and the party, of losing his daughter to Lestrade and realizing that her future did not rest in his hands anymore, hit him like a ton of bricks. He tried to reconcile his little girl with what he saw before him. It could not be, yet it was, it was painful to realize. He could feel something deep inside he pushed aside since she was born so that he could just enjoy being her father twisted painfully against his ribs. The beauty he always knew was his daughter was now realized in the vision of white and ivory that stood before him. If only he could see more of it around the tears that welled in his vision, scattering the details. He blinked to clear them and cleared his throat to gain Molly’s attention. Molly turned to her father with a big smile like the ones she wore when she was an innocent child free from worries of an adult and he was cut to the quick once again.

“Well you look rather dashing, Papa!” Molly smiled at her father, tracing the ends of her veil with her fingers, ready to throw the blusher in front of her face so that she could go to the church and marry her husband. Aunt Evelyn noticed the way her brother was staring at his only daughter and understood their need for a private moment.

“I’ll meet the both of you at the church. I leave you in the capable hands of your father dear.” Evelyn embraced her niece wholeheartedly and kissed her cheek, then did the same to her brother. “Now don’t be late!” She warned with a wink to her brother and niece, closing the door behind her and exited the house to her carriage decorated for the occasion to make the way to the church herself. Behind her carriage stood a similar coach and four waiting for the bride and her father to come out of the house. The horses stomped proudly, the entire thing a gift for the occasion from Lestrade for Molly, one of many she would receive throughout the day.

Back inside the bride’s room her father approach her, at a loss for words. He pulled her head down and kissed her forehead, giving her shoulders an affectionate squeeze under the multitudes of fabric. He hands moved down and took both of her hands in his as he would have done many times before. He knew it wasn’t the last moment to embrace his daughter, yet these moments held a heavy finality in them. The look in Molly’s eyes now matched his own as she felt the last words of this chapter in her life being finished. She knew little of what the future held but she was no longer alone, no longer did she fear being alone. She could face whatever was ahead with Lestrade by her side, but she still wanted to be by her father’s side. But she couldn’t, not like she was when it was just her father and herself. She could visit but she would still have to come home to her husband. She embraced her father, knowing that these were her final moments alone with him, as Molly Hooper.

“I love you so much, Papa!” She said kissing the side of his cheek she could and cuddled into his embrace like only a daughter could embrace a father that was loved as much as this man. Her father hugged her back, delicately like a china doll that would break, like he did when she was a babe only just starting to walk.

“You will no longer be just my daughter anymore, Molly Mouse.” He pushed her back to look into her eyes which started to tear, he wiped at them with his thumbs like when he did long ago to stop them when she had a ’boo-boo’ and he was a father raising her by himself. “But you will always be my little dove.” He kissed her nose and Molly gave a half-sobbed chuckle in return. He turned into the room and picked up her now fully packed trunk under one arm. Molly pulled the lace blusher over her head and he offered her his arm.

“Now. Let’s go get you married.” Dr. Hooper smiled to his daughter, no longer crying. He was English after all, it was time to face the public. When they stepped out to the waiting carriage, the neighbors of the Hooper Residence came out to witness the beautiful bride step into the carriage. No one could believe that they would see the day that Dr. Samuel Hooper would find a man that would marry his daughter Molly. They all looked forward to seeing the man in the flesh when they returned to visit Dr. Hooper after the honeymoon. Molly cared not for this kind of gossip as she waved to the passing neighbors. She was on her way to the church, she was on her way to the beginning of the rest of her life.

 

\---

 

At the church, Greg Lestrade was a typical groom pacing back and forth in an anteroom, waiting to be called forward by the minister who was to come get him once the ceremony was going to proceed. He heard voices inside the church build as guests greeted each other. This only served to make him grumble as well as pace. The many drinks he had absorbed only about an hour ago did little to help him as all that good buzz was burned away by the nerves that plagued him now. He didn’t know what was taking so long, he just should have suggested that he and Molly get married in front of that judge he knew. None of this waiting and the frippery, the logic in his brain tried to tap away to get his attention but was unheard. John and Sherlock tried to make polite conversation and ply him with taking water or food but were ignored. John and Sherlock watched him pacing, Sherlock feeling his agitation with his own mind-numbing boredom, John with an amused smirk, he could be a smug married man even though he had experienced his own wedding only a few weeks ago. More than once, John had to scold Sherlock, the only thing to stop his bored ranting and raving by claiming he was behaving like a five year old. This quieted him, yet he stored arguments he had of the dullness of the event in his mind to complain to Lestrade about later. Mycroft and Lieutenant Jones were standing by the doors of the church, greeting the guests that arrived and entertained the bridesmaids upon their arrival. They both greeted Aunt Evelyn who announced that the bride and her father would only be a few minutes behind her self, both men shared looks of excitement, Mycroft’s infinitely more reserved than Lieutenant Jones.

The door opened and Lestrade started, only sighing in mock disappointment when it wasn’t the minister at all but Aunt Evelyn. She popped her head in and smiled to the three men. “I just came to see what you looked like. Quite the dashing figure I must say.” Aunt Evelyn announced kissing her almost nephew upon the cheek. Lestrade accepted it with a grumble and a strained, impatient smile. “You shall be the perfect compliment to my niece, who looks beautiful I must say, but you probably think she is always beautiful. Ah! And don’t you boys look dashing as well. You both can go to the front of the church and line up, I just left the bride and her father and they were to leave shortly after me.” She announced. John and Sherlock scattered out of the room almost at a run, needing no further encouragement to get away from the nervous, agitated groom. Lestrade had offered during the rehearsal to escort Aunt Evelyn to her seat to initiate the start of the ceremony, this he was now regretting as Aunt Evelyn made use of the time they were waiting by smoothing out his suit and adjusting his already adjusted cravat. “I’ll make my way there myself once the minister comes to get you.” She smiled, her eyes full of mirth as she enjoyed the tortured expression Lestrade wore due to his waiting for Molly. He never thought that twenty-four hours without her could be so torturous.

“Thank you Aunt Evelyn,” Lestrade said this through gritted teeth as she was smoothing out the back of his suit jacket, pulling at the fabric. Just when she moved onto his boutonniere and handkerchief the door opened again and the happy, serene minister knocked on the door.

“It’s time, if you would make your way down the aisle to the front of the church, I’ve been told the bride’s coach is approaching.” The minister smiled as Lestrade practically manhandled poor Aunt Evelyn to the back of the church. She closed the doors to the narthex of the church where he could see fabrics of the brides maids bustling behind her with a wink. A gentle version of Shubert, bounced off the walls dimly as the animated talking of the church was shushed to whispers. All eyes were on Lestrade as he walked down taking his hallowed and unenvied position as a groom next to the minister who shook his hand conspiratorially. He nodded to his division of Scotland Yard that were cheering him on from their seats in their black dress uniforms. He smiled reluctantly and waved for them to calm down, they were there to witness the boss getting married and he caught the eye of the chief inspector who smiled to his best detective inspector proudly. The event was cause for good publicity for Scotland Yard and he was glad that it was such a dignified affair. Although Lestrade hated the man using the most important day of his personal life as cause for a publicity stunt, using his powers to muscle the paper into printing the announcement right in the middle of the bleeding announcements page. He cleared his throat, nodding to his boss and it was then that John’s head peered through the doors and gave a nod to the minister with an excited smile. The pious man nodded sagely and waved to the room to quiet down, the organist concluding the piece they were playing. He waited for the room to hush to a quiet that had Lestrade’s heart pounding around inside his chest and then gave another nod to the organist who commenced with playing a traditional hymn for the bridal party to proceed down the aisle.

Mycroft entered first with Evelyn Hooper upon his arm. For those of the ton that were there this was cause for a great disturbance of the social balance. Evelyn Hooper did hold the ear of the those that were very powerful, but the Holmes family was on another rung of the social latter entirely, quite elite and well above the infamous Evelyn Hooper. The presence of Mycroft Holmes, current head of the Holmes family since the death of the elder Holmes and his wife, in such an intimate role as a member of the bridal party spoke volumes. They noted how stately the groomsmen were dressed, something the room of guests didn’t assume the Hooper family could afford, which meant that the entirety of the affair was assumed to have been paid by the groom himself, at least that‘s what we could assume all of the hushed whispers that filled the room were about. Evelyn Hooper wore a traditionally elder frock of a muted rose color with a hat filled audaciously with roses and feathers, that almost poured out from the wide brim. Many women mocked the style of it to deaf ears, however it did suit the lady very well. Aunt Evelyn took the seat normally reserved for the mother of the bride, this causing a murmured word of sympathy for the bride to be without her mother on her special day. When the sun peered through in sudden brightness, no one seemed to think that maybe the church sparkled just that little bit more due to some heavenly influence.

Next down the aisle proceeded Miss. Donovan, on the arm of the Lieutenant. She wore a elegant dress with a jacket, all in a similar style to Molly’s but less ornate. All the brides maids would carry bouquets of wild flowers that were grown in a hothouse for the occasion. She passed Anderson, without a second glance, absorbed by how she looked to Lieutenant Jones, who cut a fine figure in his dress uniform. They split at the front of the aisle and went to their prospective places on the bride’s and groom’s sides of the church.

Next came Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. He quite proudly escorted his landlady down the aisle, curls bobbing as his eyes scanned the room, using the valuable time to observe the crowd and who was there. He made note of those who disliked the wedding that was taking place, those most likely to raise an objection, of which he was thankful there were few if any that would, and noted that most were there to witness the woman that was taking the hand of one of the most illustrious, and unfortunately most gossiped about men in all of London. Mrs. Hudson’s dress in a similar but more modest cut to the rest of the bridesmaids was of a dove grey that had so many sparkling threads within it that it gave the appearance of almost being a silver gown. It suited the lady very well and she accepted a kiss at the end of the aisle by Sherlock who dimpled saying that his landlady was indeed beautiful today. She patted the boy’s cheek, with an affectionate “Sherlock.” before turning to walk down to her side next to Miss. Donovan. Sherlock shook Lestrade’s hand and gave his brother a sneer, as the elder gave him a snide smile. This was silenced by a pointed glare from Lestrade not having their bickering now. He pulled at his collar, anxious for the procession to end. Was it his imagination or did this seem to go on forever?

At last the newly married Dr. and Mrs. Watson sauntered down the aisle. They looked to another with adoring smiles before nodding to the crowds and then to the bridal party as they made their way to the front of the church. Mary’s dress was a muted lavender, similar to the color she wore when she first met Molly, for the two of them to jump from mere acquaintances to best friends showed Mrs. Watson had a suspiciously easy way with people to Sherlock, almost as if it were practiced. Even Molly Hooper was not usually so easily taken in when meeting new people, and as he still was observing Mary, still felt her to be suspect even now that she was married to John. He wasn’t jealous, no, not at all. Merely… suspicious. Mary stood at her position with an anxious smile to the groom, and John slapped the man on the shoulder knowing how agonizing such moments could be for a groom. It was finally time for the ceremony to really begin.

With a swell of music and the raising hand signal from the minister, the whole of the church stood up looking to the front doors that would swing open to let in the bride escorted by her father Dr. Hooper. Lestrade took in a deep breath and two yarders in uniform and white gloves opened the doors with a flourish. The groom felt all of the air leave his lungs in a gasp. From what little he could see of Molly’s face behind that damn veil she looked absolutely beautiful. He smiled his familiar boyishly crooked smile, Aunt Evelyn was watching his reaction fondly, he used when he was absolutely happy. John squeezed his shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “She looks absolutely beautiful mate, you’re a lucky man. Remember to breathe.” Lestrade licked his lips with a nod but was unable to keep the smile from reappearing on his face. Every time he tried to take a breath, the happy love that filled his chest would rush the air out of his body again. Molly finally met his eyes and he could tell beneath the veil that she too was just as happy as he, her smile shining through the material that hid her face from him until her father could reveal it to him. Finally Molly and her father reached the end of the aisle, but her face still remained obscured from his gaze even though they faced on another. Her father still remained in front of everyone to give his permission in front of the church for Lestrade to take her hand.

The music concluded and the minister gestured to the congregation to be seated. He spoke then at length about the beauty before them, the anticipation of the life to follow from their union, the role of marriage in life, why it was created, the role of spouses towards one another, the people that were no longer there that would still lay witness to the union by making the church shine as it was, so that it sparkled more today than on any other day. There was a snort from behind Lestrade was quickly silenced with an elbow in the ribs by the man of honor. Mycroft eyed Sherlock with a derisive shake of his head. Even though he thought that Sherlock was right to mock the sentiment of the occasion, at least he could do it quietly in the privacy of his own mind castle, unlike Sherlock who couldn’t keep his opinions within his mind palace ever, forever showing off.

Then the ceremony progressed, a tense moment passing when the minister asked for anyone raising objections to speak or forever be silent. Lestrade held his breath, only able to release it when the minister continued. He hadn’t seen Mycroft, Sherlock, and Aunt Evelyn cast suspicious glares around the room daring anyone to object, but none could be found. Then it was time for Greg and Molly to declare their intent towards one another before Dr. Hooper could give his daughter away. The minister looked to Lestrade and asked if he would have Molly as his wife. If he was ready for the commitment of marriage, to keep her in sickness and in health, to love, honor and forsake all others before her, so long as they both should live? Lestrade’s chest puffed out proudly to give him answer.

“I will.” Lestrade answered gladly looking down at Molly. The minister repeated his speech and asked of Molly the same question Asking in the sacred tradition of all women if she would not only love honor but also obey her husband, keep him in sickness and in health and forsake all other men in her life, including her poor father who patted her hand in that moment, so long as they both would live.

“I will.” Molly said softly. It wasn’t in Molly’s nature to boom out answers even if she was before a wall of people as she was now. Yet she did look to Lestrade matching his smile with her own.

The minister continued to then speak of the role of the father, passing along his daughter and all her worldly possessions to the groom and his family, giving this younger man the responsibility of providing and caring for his daughter for the rest of her days, passing responsibility of her to the new husband, taking over where the father could no longer. When asked if he offered his permission for this woman that stood before the church to marry the groom, Dr. Hooper cleared his throat before saying a constricted “I do.” He then removed Molly’s hand from the crook of his elbow, and placed it in the upturned, waiting hand of Lestrade’s, he squeezed the man’s shoulder affectionately and then took his seat next to his sister, who patted his arm affectionately. Dr. Hooper barely noticed this as he was simply trying not to give into the despair at letting his daughter go, glad though he was that he was letting her go to Lestrade. The minister covered their hands with his and continued on with the vows asking Lestrade first to say his. Lestrade took a bracing breath and let his rumbling voice boom through out the church.

“I, Gregory Reginald Lestrade,” he made a mental note that he would have words later when he heard four men that were supposedly his friends giggle behind him in response to hearing his middle name, “take thee Molly Elizabeth Hooper to be my wedded wife,” Lestrade smiled to Molly seeing a blush grow upon her cheeks despite being obscured by lace, he could always tell if Molly was blushing. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health to love and to cherish till death us do part, according to God’s holy writ and thereto I plight thee my troth.” He looked down and then up to Molly shyly, and cleared his throat as he felt it constrict slightly with emotion, realizing his role as husband in the words of the vows. He would forever love and cherish his Molly, there was no doubt of that. Then the minister announced to Molly that it was her turn to commit herself to the role of wife before her new husband and the congregation before her.

Molly took a deep breath and continued just as Lestrade had in a soft but confidently clear voice. “I, Molly Elizabeth Hooper, take thee, Gregory Reginald Lestrade to be my wedded husband,” Molly tried to take a breath unnoticed by the audience as a sweep of emotion suddenly overcame her, but the slight cry underneath it was noticed by a fair few and she could hear Mary and Mrs. Hudson sighing in the background. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy writ, and thereto I give thee my troth.” Molly let out a breath in relief glad to be done with the saying of the vows. Lestrade assured her that it was all just for the law’s sake but it all did hold a certain gravity to it that made her tremble inside.

“Who among your cherished friends and relatives giveth the rings?” The minister questioned the parties flanking the bride and groom. John and Mary stepped forward handing the rings to the minister laying the sparkling bands upon his prayer book. He then turned to the couple before them and Lestrade took the smaller of the two that was Molly’s dwarfed by the impressive size of Lestrade’s. Lestrade slid the ring upon her finger where his mother’s ring currently sat and said his part binding her to him as wife. “With this ring, I thee wed, and with all my worldly possessions I thee endow. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.” He allowed the moment while her hand laid in his to caress the spot that now held both rings on her finger with his thumb, causing her to blush even more.

The minister then encouraged Molly to do the same as she slipped on Lestrade’s ring, an unusual thing at that time for a man to wear a ring but appropriate in this case as Lestrade would have them be equals as man and wife, but also since divorced once already was glad for the reminder that he was once again married and how serious a commitment it was to undertake for a second time. It also was a rather public display of his commitment to Molly, someone many deemed a wildly inappropriate choice for him. He now challenged them to try and argue, as the band settled into its permanent place easily. Molly took another shaky breath and repeated the words Lestrade had said. “With this ring, I thee wed, and with all my worldly possessions I thee endow. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.” They both turned to the minister then to receive the prayers. The minister spoke of the history of weddings throughout the Bible and how this tradition was reflected in the union before him today. And to bless the couple that had just pledge their love to each other in all of their future endeavors as man and wife. He then spoke to the gathered friends and family and encouraged all of those with in the church to say the lord’s prayer. The church rose and then recited the prayer en masse. They remained standing as the minister blessed the union.

“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.” He continued looking to the entire church that looked to the couple excitedly, the moment approaching that they would be announced to be finally married as man and wife. “Forasmuch as Gregory and Molly have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving the rings, and by joining hands I pronounce they are now and forevermore Man and Wife. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The minister crossed his hands over the couple’s bowed heads and then did the same with the entire church saying the benediction over the audience and then announced that Lestrade could now kiss his new bride. He gave a confirming nod to the minister, as he was wont to do as a man of authority. Time seemed to slow for him in that moment as he ran his hands up Molly’s arm, grabbing the edges of the blusher at her elbows and threw the blasted veil that had been covering her from his view the entire ceremony. He stepped back a moment in awe, she was indeed absolutely beautiful and he was a man that was astounded and utterly lost before it, now that she was his and his alone. Her eyes filled with tears and a delicate blush still upon her cheeks. He cupped her face delicately between his strong, capable hands bringing his mouth gently down upon hers, encouraging her head to tilt forward and using her gasp at his gentle caressing touch to swipe his tongue over hers in a secret tease of what was to happen later that night. He then pulled away and kissed the tip of her nose garnering giggles and “awh’s” from their family. He wiped at the tears the overflowed at the corners of her eyes and answered her smile with his own licking his lips and then turned around to face the church with her hand locked firmly in the safety of his elbow. The minister boomed out to the church that before them was the newly wedded Detective Inspector and Mrs. Gregory Reginald Lestrade and to this there was an eruption of applause. A shouted instruction was delivered at the back of the church by a fellow Yarder, the men of Lestrade’s division all lined up down the aisle and they clicked their heels standing at attention with a salute. Lestrade groused but allowed for it, escorting Molly out to the front of the church guided by a swell of music. The bridal party followed and then they waited for the church to empty, accepting hand shakes from the guests as they passed. Lestrade was a patient man but all he wanted was a private moment alone with his bride before they moved onto the reception. They didn’t get it until the church was empty except them and then they heard the Yarders once again announce the detective inspector and his bride, they ran down the front steps of the church dodging rice and rose petals until they were finally ensconced inside the coach that would take them to the rest of their lives together as man and wife.

Lestrade waited until Molly was seated comfortably inside the enclosed coach before taking her hand in his running his thumb across the two rings that now symbolized the sealing of their union. “Hullo Wife.” He smiled to Molly serenely, his chest brimming with love.

“Hullo Husband.” Molly echoed with a timid smile not knowing what to do in that moment. She didn’t have to think long before Lestrade covered her mouth with his to the cheers of everyone standing in front of the church as the coach pulled away. He released her to the sound of cans clanging against the cobble stone road. They looked at each other and laughed, knowing that Sherlock had enlisted the help of his soot covered Homeless Network to accomplish the deed and had placed a just married sign to the carriage himself so that everyone that they passed tipped off their hats and shouted their congratulations to the passing carriage. When they caught each other’s gaze Molly blushed reaching out for a kiss that Lestrade gladly accepted with a rumbling chuckle.

When they pulled away Lestrade looked deeply into her eyes, caressing her blushing cheek with the pad of his thumb. “My beautiful wife.” He gave Molly a boyish smile that managed to look predatory at the same time causing her to look demure. Lestrade corrected this by lifting her chin. “Molly love if you keep looking down or away every time I compliment you or shower you with affection you’ll be spending an awful lot of time throughout our marriage avoiding my gaze.” Lestrade covered her mouth to seal the promise of his devotion, opening her mouth under his careful kisses, loving her gentle sigh as she brought her hands to his shoulders. He pulled away before he could deepen it, no matter how much he longed to in that moment, before his passion for her could spiral out of control. “I’ve been waiting all day to do that.” He grumbled looking down at the hooded, and heavily heated expression on Molly’s face. Lestrade adjusted his seat on the plush cushions of the carriage, his pants now decidedly uncomfortable. He then moved onto her neck, nibbling at the skin he could reach along her jaw line and sating his appetite on the parts of her neck that laid beneath the fabric of her jacket. He became incensed starting to unbutton the jacket like a man possessed trying to get at whatever skin he could, when he was met with lace underneath the linen he growled ferociously, this woke Molly from the reverie of his adoration. Molly pushed at his shoulders.

“Greg, wait.” She pleaded, pushing at his shoulders as he began caressing her torso, underneath her bosom, working his way towards her bust. This caused her to moan and Lestrade to moan back with a grumble, the vibrations brought chills to her skin making the high neck of her dress and jacket feel overwhelming. “Ah! Greg! Please! Wait!” Molly pushed forcibly on Lestrade’s shoulders and he broke away from her neck with a dazed expression. He really had to get a handle on himself. He shook his head and cleared his throat, rousing himself from his love drunken stupor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Lestrade breathed giving Molly a closed mouth kiss and then pulled away to put the space of the coach between himself and his new bride. Molly laughed loud and clear seeing his spooked expression and how he scampered to the other side of the coach. The look on his face would stick in her memory forever. She continued to laugh unable to stop. It took a minute for Lestrade to realize she was actually laughing at his expense. He had just been enjoying hearing Molly’s unfettered laugh. He had never heard such a beautiful, happy sound before. “Hey!” He growled bringing her back into his embrace. Molly squeaked in an unladylike way, surprised when he did this. She immediately blushed and was quiet. Lestrade pouted like a child seeing that he had spoiled the fun of hearing her laugh. This was mollified when Molly turned in his embrace and kissed him, smoothing her hand down his face. At her smile, eyes bright from laughing, Lestrade smiled again. It was then that the coach stopped before the front doors to Alamack’s. Lestrade looked to Molly in awe not knowing that they had booked the reception at the exclusive club.

“My Aunt Evelyn mentioned the reception to the ladies she takes tea with, and they immediately gave permission to Aunt Evelyn to hold it here.” Molly eyed Lestrade sheepishly as they looked to the front steps of the club, its wrought iron rails decorated tastefully with flowers and silk ribbons for the occasion. “They wouldn’t let her do a thing, they offered to do it all themselves. I have no idea who will be there other than the people we’ve invited, since the ladies agreed it was only right to have an open invitation to anyone who was member of the club. Do we have to go in?” Molly looked to him nervously not liking the idea of mixing with society, with complete strangers she’d never met before.

“I’m afraid we have to, we have to shake hands with some strangers you’ll probably never meet again and pretend like we care what they have to say,” Molly laughed at Lestrade’s agreeing opinion taking his hand that rested next to hers on the seat of the coach. “Then we’ll have to eat and dance and enjoy ourselves. I’ll have to get slapped on the back by brutes while I try to take a nice sip of brandy.” Lestrade groaned at the thought of being exposed to that jocularity.

“And I’ll have to let all the women cluck over me and tell me about how awful our relations will be and how I’ll have to brace myself.” Molly smiled but quickly blushed when she realized that she brought up the exact subject she hadn’t let herself think on since she accepted his proposal. Knowing how close she was to the wedding night now made her very nervous.

Lestrade drew her once again into his embrace and gave her a quick, heated kiss. “I know many men boast about this, but let me assure you love, it will not be horrible at all with me.” Lestrade let a rumble of laughter roll through his chest before stepping out of the coach to help her down.

“How do you know that?” Molly questioned with a coy smile as he lifted her by the waist from the steps of the carriage. When he put her on her feet in front of him, they both gasped at the electricity that sparked between them, and came together for another kiss.

Lestrade was the first to pull away, offering her his arm. “Because that’s how I know.” Lestrade smiled proudly even though this left Molly sorely confused.

 

\---

 

Just inside the club, one of Evelyn’s friends cornered the newlyweds as they entered. A man with the latest photographic picture camera was waiting to take the picture of the couple. The man arranged the couple just so, and as Molly was still wearing her veil it was the perfect occasion, before the man took the exposure, so that they would have to pose and wait for it to develop Lestrade leaned over to Molly and whispered to her. “This may be the thing of the future, but I’m having us get a portrait done. What say you wife?” Lestrade questioned with a smile down at Molly who looked up at him with a shocked expression.

“If you think it necessary Greg. I hope we can afford it.” Molly grimaced thinking of the cost and bother of the thing.

“Never you mind that, I’ve already made up my mind. I want your likeness committed to canvas love.” Lestrade kissed her, to the verbalized annoyance of the camera man who had just been ready to start the exposing process. Lestrade waved his apologies and stood at attention for the man.

“Very well, a portrait then.” Molly agreed. And they stood very still as the camera exposed their likeness upon a tintype. The camera man was watching it, and a not so while later he waved that they were free to go on to the festivities. No one had noticed Aunt Evelyn popping into the room during the exposure.

“Not so fast young man! My niece must have a picture in her wedding dress as well. Come Molly,” Aunt Evelyn dragged the bride off into a room beside the place the photographer had set up with draping for the picture. Lestrade looked to the empty space Molly just was and where she had gone and harrumphed. Just like Aunt Evelyn to take his bride away the second he gets her back.

Aunt Evelyn quickly removed the veil from Molly’s hair and began helping her remove the coat by unfastening its many buttons. “Oh dear you look positively radiant. I thought you would never get here.” Aunt Evelyn giggled as Molly blushed.

“Well here I am.” Molly gestured to herself as Aunt Evelyn batted her shaking hands away from trying to help undo the buttons of the coat. Now it was the bride’s turn to be nervous. She wanted to be married, but now she was anticipating the wedding night. Not only was this her first time, but she had more than just an experienced man to deal with. The man should be experienced, if for no other reason than to have the knowledge of how to go about pleasing women. Without the instruction, men are really quite hopeless. Women deserve to be pleasured in all ways, confidently, by men who know what they’re doing. But Molly didn’t just have an experienced man before her, no, he was a divorced man with a previous and unsatisfying marriage under his belt. What would happen tonight? Would he compare? Would he find her lack of finesse boring and uninteresting? Would Greg take off her clothes and find her naked self entirely undesirable and leave? All women had these thoughts she was sure but they seemed to be magnified by the knowledge of his previous relationship to Rebecca Rothschilde. She never gave the woman more thought that was her due, but she couldn’t help the seed of doubt that had been lingering in the back of her mind. The stories of that woman and her vast talents in the bedroom arts were legendary. All that was legendary about Molly was her preoccupation with the dead, her awkward shyness, and her Aunt Evelyn. The said woman completed unbuttoning Molly’s wedding jacket and added it to the open boxes that laid around Molly. Molly had thought her dress complete at the house, apparently it was not. There were gloves for her to wear now, a traveling coat with matching kidskin gloves and a wide brim hat for her to wear tonight when leaving for the honeymoon. For the moment, Molly pushed aside the daunting thoughts of the wedding night and focused on helping her Aunt put her arms into the long elegant white evening gloves. Aunt Evelyn adjusted the rumples in the dress that were caused by Molly’s flirtations with Lestrade in the coach and then proceeded to bring Molly back into the room where the photographer and Lestrade were waiting.

Upon seeing the actual wedding dress Lestrade’s eyes balked. He had no idea that the elegant dress Molly was wearing had been hiding under the modest jacket from before. Molly blushed taking his arm once again. Aunt Evelyn fussed with both Molly’s dress and Lestrade’s suit until everything was to her liking. Then she came before the photographer and nodded her assent, with another exposure being taken Lestrade and Molly could not move until the okay.

“You both look absolutely lovely.” Aunt Evelyn announced.

“Yes the picture is coming out wonderfully one more moment and I’ll let you go.” The photographer announced from underneath the picture box’s cape. Aunt Evelyn noticed the Detective Inspector trying to keep himself from turning to admire Molly’s wedding dress. Mission accomplished, the woman thought to herself proudly. Take that Rebecca Rothschilde, the man always only had eyes for her niece and her niece alone.

“I’ll meet you both in the hallway, just come out of the room when you’re ready.” Aunt Evelyn gave an adoring look to the couple before leaving. At the wave from the photographer, Lestrade and Molly turned to one another. He looked her up and down in utter disbelief. He loved his new wife, and never once did he doubt her beauty, but he counted himself a very lucky man in that moment. Molly wasn’t just beautiful, and it wasn’t just the dress she wore. No, it was everything and her happiness and loving, adoring looks only added to her beauty. Her soul was shining on this day, and the effect upon her beauty was astounding. He took her hand in his.

“Turn around.” Lestrade ordered gruffly with a heated gaze using the moment to take in the vision before him. When Molly came back around to face Lestrade, the blush upon her cheeks doubled but she was no longer afraid of his opinion of her as his lover. If this was the kind of gazes that she would receive from him, she had no fear of their marriage bed ever being cold. It seemed to take everything within Lestrade not to pounce upon her now that they were alone. Lestrade didn’t trust himself to remain a decent gentleman in that moment to pull away if he closed the distance between them to have the kiss from Molly that his lips tingled for, he tongue came out to lick them but that did little to quell the urge boiling inside him. So instead he kissed the hand that rested in his, her warm skin obscured by the glove that covered it. He thumbed the rings on her finger again and put the arm in the crook of his elbow. “The luckiest man on earth shall always be me.” He announced into the air. He then turned to Molly and covered the hand at his elbow with his own. “Shall we?”

“Yes, the sooner this socializing is over the better.” Molly agreed as they headed into the hallway. She tried not to catch his eye even though she knew perfectly well how he would interpret that statement. She merely wanted to not have to talk to all their friends and family.

“My thoughts exactly.” Lestrade agreed, with a sly smile as the doors swung open. This garnered the attention of the bridal party that was waiting for them so that they all could enter the ballroom and begin the evening’s festivities. The couple was immediately hugged and kissed by everyone in the room, except Dr. Hooper who waiting until the excitement died down, after the women of the party finished gushing over Molly’s dress. Then once everyone was finished their praise, Dr. Hooper approached to give Lestrade a big hug, like he would have had he had a son of his own.

Molly heard her father say, “Congratulations, my son. I‘m so proud of you.“ She made no comment as she saw Lestrade’s eyes become misty as he let go of Molly’s hand to embraced the elder man. Aunt Evelyn shared a knowing look with her niece. These two would become quite the close pair now that Lestrade was a member of the family. Lestrade would seek out Dr. Hooper’s attention, opinions, and advice, missing that kind of open and loving father figure in his life. His long dead father had left quite the gaffe in Lestrade’s life, the distance between them was always something with which Lestrade struggled. Dr. Hooper would now simply have the son he had always wanted to have around, his affection more than making up for what Lestrade‘s father had left behind. The men broke apart and both cleared their throats in a manly fashion, Lestrade never forgot Molly and brought her before her father. He knew he was taking Molly away from the man, if not in distance then in spirit and felt that stretching of the bond between the father and daughter every time Molly cast a sad eye when speaking of him in the days that led to this day. The man’s eyes popped out of his head as he realized that the dress he has seen before on his daughter was actually just a jacket covering the actual wedding dress she wore now. And he could see why as it barely covered her but somehow managed to cover almost everything. It was quite the fashionable number. His little girl was really no longer a little girl, but this beautiful goddess of a woman in front of him. He eyed his sister thunderously but not having words with her now about her overdoing things like this, he’d save that for later as he knew the concoction his daughter was wearing was entirely Evelyn’s doing. But he supposed now that she was a married woman, it wasn’t his place to say anymore and her husband looked more than please with it. Dr. Hooper simply kissed his daughter’s cheek and murmured his congratulations in her ear. It was then that a butler came in to announce that the bridal party make their way into the ballroom. The bridal party all looked to the newlyweds with excited smiles and made for the door stepping through it as they were announced. Molly and Greg came to the double doors waiting for the butler to announce them and the doors to open.

Lestrade took that moment to make sure Molly was okay. “How are you feeling, wife?” Molly smiled at the reminder that they were married.

“I’m perfectly happy, husband.” Lestrade smiled with twinkling eyes at that.

A butler stood waiting on the other side of the door with a spoon and a glass. He tapped the glass, its tone ringing out above the din of conversation that flowed over the hall, magnified by the echo inside the ballroom.

It was quite the room completely with tall roman columns in the corners, a painted and gold leafed ceiling in a classic romantic style complete with cherubs and puffy orange and pink clouds, sweeping ornate candle chandeliers hung around the designs on the ceiling and sconces lining the walls, and this was just the design of the room. A full orchestra was crammed into a corner to allow for dancing but was currently providing light music to pepper the conversation of the reception’s guests and opposing them at the opposite end of the room was a small table filled to bursting with cold meats, cheeses, breads vegetables and fruit with spreads for the party to consume before they were called to dinner.

It was all really quite splendid as butlers waded through the crowds with trays either dotted with specially made hors d’oeuvres or champagne and another troop of butlers was already refilling the empty glasses of those around them with more of the effervescent liquid. Chairs with small white linen tables dotted the space near the table of food and the rest of the room was given up to dancing and socializing.

Upon hearing the ring of the glass the entire room was silent. The butler cleared his throat and said in a booming voice that filled the room. “Pray charge your glasses and be upstanding for the newly married Detective Inspector and Mrs. Gregory Reginald Lestrade.” The room erupted into cheers and applause as the great oak doors swung open and Greg and Molly entered the room. Greg and Molly bowed and curtsied, neither really used to being given much consequence in a room full of people but now were the center of attention. The men from Lestrade’s division immediate began tapping upon their own glasses and the sound moved across the room as the crowd requested a kiss from the couple. Lestrade made a big show of it, cradling Molly in his arms, his hand at the back of her head. When she was returned upright, Molly couldn’t help the blush covering her face and she noted Lestrade’s cheeky, boyish grin. For someone who didn’t like the attention, Lestrade was certainly enjoying himself as he licked his lips. The yarders that were present whooped and hollered for more, but were silenced by the chief inspector that appeared next to them.

The orchestra played a resonant note announcing that the first waltz of the evening would begin. It was then that the butler spoke up again. “Now the couple shall have their first dance together as man and wife.” The newlyweds made their way to the dance floor, Lestrade easily taking Molly into his arms. It was a soft, sweeping, sweet, melody and Molly once again simply let herself be swept away in the arms of her new husband. He was a confident dancer which at first surprised her, but now that she danced with him and never stumbled once she could believe it easily of Greg. It is after all a very strong and capable man that can lead in a dance. She only then noticed that Lestrade was slowly bringing Molly closer and closer into his embrace. They came together like magnets. She would wonder if that would ever cease, as his mouth came down upon hers. Just as quickly as he kissed her he pulled away. Molly sighed.

“What’s the matter love?” Lestrade questioned in soft whispers, he took a moment to twirl her, guiding her body around with a hand on her torso, that left chills on her body in its wake.

:”I just wish these people weren’t here so that we could kiss properly.” It had been so long since they had really truly kissed. Her whole body ached for it.

“If we were alone right now we’d do plenty more than kissing.” Lestrade chuckled at her blush. “I would rather not be so inappropriate at the moment. There is a very thin thread tying my control together right now, I’d hate for Dad to shoot me within just hours of being married, seems like such an awful waste.” Lestrade sighed, wishing they were indeed alone on their honeymoon.

“Yes and think of how horrible the autopsy would be.” Molly grimaced when she herself mentioned her fascination with cutting up cadavers. This caused Lestrade to throw his head back in laughter, forgetting all pretense of following the music almost entirely he simply swung Molly around in circles by her hips.

“Oh my wife, I absolutely adore you.” Lestrade grumbled taking her hand once again to resume the dance. Molly was still giggling from being swung around when the music came to an end. A more lively waltz sprang from the orchestra and a hand came onto Lestrade’s shoulder from behind, it was Mycroft.

“Would you be so kind as to allow me to dance with the beautiful bride?” Mycroft questioned with a formal bow. Lestrade bowed back handing Molly over to him.

“So long as I get her back.” Lestrade chuckled.

“Of course, Gregory.” Mycroft gave a soft almost puff of air for a posh laugh and twirled Molly into the fray of dancing. She stumbled slightly, only used to dancing with Lestrade, but quickly recovered. Mycroft started off the dancing with some conversation. “You look simply beautiful this evening, Mrs. Lestrade.” Mycroft smiled down to Molly which if she was beginning to judge the man right, with something in his eyes akin to regret. Who could regret someone like herself?

“Thank you so much Mycroft. You look quite dashing this evening yourself.” Molly dimpled a fond smile up to him. Mycroft let out a dramatic sigh as he swung her across the dance floor.

“Yes but I doubt my person would have much effect on you now, you’re a married woman. Married to a colleague. It would hardly bode well to try and make an attempt to steal you from him now.” Molly laughed thinking he was kidding but his slightly sad smile seemed slightly serious. Mycroft chuckled at seeing the question in her eyes.

“Fear not, I’ve never desired the romantic attentions of another person and I shan’t start now. It is far too late for me, and you know how I feel about sentiment. You’re safe with me, my dear.” Mycroft announced just as the lively music came to an end. He bowed to her as she curtsied and moved to the edge of the dance floor.

After several dances with John, Greg, Lieutenant Jones, and Anderson respectively, Molly found herself passed into the arms of Sherlock. She stared dubiously at the Consulting Detective, his motive for actually offering to dance with her on her wedding day was suspect at best. Sherlock simply looked stoically at the room around him, avoiding her judging eyes while he moved her effortlessly across the dance floor as the orchestra played a very dramatic and sweeping waltz.

“To what do I owe to the pleasure of this dance, Sherlock?” Molly questioned suspiciously with a raised eyebrow. When he finally looked her in the eye, his attempt at a friendly smile died with a frustrated grumble.

“I was merely trying to assert myself into the happy occasion, it is tradition at such occasions as these to dance with the new bride.” Sherlock pushed forward. “And I believe now would be a good a time as any to formally apologize for the whole… stag night, stabbed fiance incident.” Molly’s grip on his shoulder and his hand tightened minutely, just enough for Sherlock to wince. “To be fair it wasn’t entirely my fault. Your newly wedded husband did get in the way when I had the situation perfectly under control.”

“Sherlock.” Molly fumed, her sprite-like nose flaring.

“I am sorry Molly.” Sherlock said, suddenly deathly serious. “I do promise, no matter the situation, even if it is not my fault, to protect your husband from harm during our adventures.” At this Molly smiled to him, imminently pleased that he finally understood the point.

“That’s all I ask of you, Sherlock.” Molly took that moment to break the heavy eye contact and glance around the room, wondering where was her husband. She didn’t look long before she spotted the man guiding Mrs. Hudson across the dance floor, making his way in their general direction. She looked back to Sherlock who was eyeing her curiously.

“There was always one point on which I was most confused, that I still don’t understand.” Sherlock’s eyes twinkled with curiosity while looking down at Molly. It was a secret curiosity that she didn’t dare desire to investigate.

“And what would that be, Detective?” Molly lifted her chin in a challenge for him to verbalize what she was thinking he might.

“At what point did you stop wanting to be with me, and transfer those feelings to Lestrade?” Molly felt their movements on the dance floor ebb until they ceased as he waited for her to answer his question. There was really no recourse now for answering honestly.

“Well the type of feelings I had for you would never be the feelings that I would have for Greg. But I believe it was when you made mention of our mutual attraction to one another. I had never given it a thought. I always just thought that was Greg’s way. especially when you were both in a room together, and I barely gave him a second look when standing next to you. While I held you on a pedestal, anything that possibly could happen made for a delightful fantasy. It was all just that, Sherlock. You would never- Sentiment, as you always say, and I would always be there waiting for you, indefinitely. Anything Lestrade was offering was real and you sort of helped it along you know, and I am in love with him now. So if you were trying at all to change my mind now you can‘t you see.” Molly covered her mouth, realizing that she was rambling all of her feelings of being torn between him and her husband in one moment, in a room full of people on her wedding day to another man that wasn‘t her husband. Sherlock smiled down at her with a small smile, amused smile on his face that reached his eyes.

“I would never, I know enough about sentiment to know that I would never come between the two of you.” Sherlock confirmed letting go of Molly just as a familiar hand came down on his shoulder.

“May I cut in, and dance with my wife?” Lestrade asked with eyes for no one else in that moment but Molly. Sherlock bowed formally to both her and Lestrade, easily allowing the man to repossess his bride and swept Mrs. Hudson across to the other end of the dance floor while the elder woman simpered at Sherlock’s dancing prowess.

“So what was that all about? Sherlock isn’t about to make a play for my new wife is he?” Lestrade joked cheekily, using the tease to pull Molly close to him.

“Absolutely not! He would never. Why would I let him do that when I have you?” Molly looked to Lestrade through hooded eyes, this caused the man to gulp. The space, or lack there of, between them becoming charged with electricity.

Before the couple could kiss it was announced that it was time for the bride and her father to share a dance together. Molly smiled to her husband, receiving the pointed gaze from him as he kissed her hand. He simply wouldn’t tolerate any more interruptions. She watched him back away, licking his lips, that spoke of promised kisses for later. Her father stepped forward uncertain at having to dance with his daughter in front of the crowd. Doing things for an audience was never quite the Hooper territory. Both father and daughter shared an identical shy smile as a sweet, airy waltz began to play. They began dancing and each took a moment to look around the room to watch everyone… watching them. The father and daughter looked back to each other and shared a gulp of nerves.

“I suppose I should say what a beautiful bride you’ve made this evening my little dove.” Dr. Hooper smiled sadly down at his daughter. “But I do believe what I really want to say is how much I will miss having my little dove around the old hooper residence. Telling me when to eat, helping me with my autopsies. It will take some getting used to.” Molly tried with all of her might the entire day not to think of leaving her father all alone now, moving onward, but she could no longer fight it as tears came to her eyes. She tried to fight them but she still felt them spill over.

“Oh papa…” She tried to find words to fix the problem but he stilled her with a squeeze of her hands.

“Now now, Molly dear, the deed is done. There’s no undoing it, and I wouldn’t ask you to choose myself over Lestrade for a million worlds. You’re meant to be where you are, by his side. It’s time my little mouse for you to start a new home with this man. I’m glad that it has happened for you, and that I finally get to see you happy. Our home will still be there, and you’ll be back to help with the work. Everything is just as it should be.” Samuel Hooper was trying to convince his daughter not to cry on this day, but he was having problems not crying himself. He snuffled as his daughter tried to take a deep breath to recover herself.

“I am sorry, Papa.” Molly smiled regretfully to her father.

“What ever for little dove?” Dr. Hooper looked to his daughter affectionately as they swayed back and forth, other fathers and daughters joined them on the dance floor at the instruction of the butler that was playing master of the festivities. Dr. Hooper wiped at the tears that were falling down his daughters cheek, absorbing this last moment to be the man within his daughter’s life to do so, soon this would be Greg’s job and Greg’s alone.

“I promised you I was going to stay a spinster like Aunt Evelyn and I broke that promise.” Molly tried to not lose all control and wiped at her own tears herself.

“Oh my dear girl.” Samuel Hooper chuckled shaking his head. “I would no sooner have ever let you promise that than I would have forced you to marry someone you didn‘t love, I knew the whole time that you would not be alone forever. It was just a matter of time.” He smiled to his daughter kissing her forehead just as the sweet melody ended. They embraced and Lestrade dutifully came forward to collect his bride from her father once again shaking the man’s hand. He kissed Molly’s hair and were approached by one of the matriarchs of the ton that had offered to host the reception for the Hoopers. She told them to make their way to onto the dining room where they would great all their guests as they were seated for dinner. The Butler announced that dinner was served and the crowds lined up to be received by the Hoopers and Lestrade. Molly made a point to really converse with the men of Lestrade’s precinct as well as the Chief Inspector, who took the opportunity to flatter Molly on her special day. Molly for her part couldn’t stop blushing under the praise all of the bawdy men showered upon her. Lestrade simply chuckled and helped her through her embarrassment by keeping her close to his side with an arm around her waist.

Once the other guests came along, Molly seemed to relax. It was very important for her to thank the ladies of the club that offered it up to her family even though they could not afford to be members. The women were warm and welcoming to her and her father, however Molly received the distinct impression that the women’s motivation for hosting the party were far from faultless. Molly was in the middle of paying penance to one such of these elder ladies when she felt Lestrade’s energy stiffen next to her. It called her attention away just in time to see Rebecca Rothschilde enter the dining room on the arm of a member of Lestrade‘s former club. Molly immediate excused herself from the conversation and the woman eyed the young viper dubiously, her reputation well known. She immediately gathered her skirts and went to gather the other women of the club so that they might assist in removing this woman before she could do much damage. While Molly tried to take Lestrade‘s arm he moved before her so as to block her from Rebecca and her venom. She did appreciate his protective nature, its one of the reasons why she loved him but this wasn‘t a battle for him to fight alone, not now that they were married. The woman came to the reception in a red dress that appeared to defy gravity, the red dress seemed to be held up by nothing and the little beaded straps that were ridiculous to be called sleeves hung from her ivory shoulders flirtatiously. But this was Molly‘s wedding and her dress while infinitely more modest than Rebecca‘s by comparison was not to be outdone. Molly refused to be upstaged on her wedding day. However it would foolish for her not to notice how Rebecca gained the attention of all of the eligible men in the room, in fact the entire room fell silent as she gained the attention of everyone as they all watched the groom react to seeing his former wife audaciously show herself at his wedding reception.

“Gregory. Miss. Hooper. I believe congratulations are in order.” Rebecca smiled venomously to the couple. Molly looked to Lestrade, seeing his jaw work and a vein in the side of his head appear that she observed on tougher cases before their courtship, she put a hand upon his arm and this caused him to lose track of his anger before he blew up completely and ruined the happy occasion. The cut was strategic, it was meant to rile up Lestrade and herself. Molly was now wise to the woman’s games.

“Ms. Rothschilde, my husband and I are so happy that you have come to celebrate the day. It is so good of you to acknowledge your former husband’s new future with myself. And who’s arm might you be choosing to drape this evening. I don’t believe I’ve had the acquaintance of this gentleman, though by your reputation I doubt there are few men in this room who wouldn’t have made yours.” Molly smiled primly to Lestrade, who had to bite the inside of his cheek not to guffaw at his new wife’s crafty repose to Rebecca’s attack. Poor Ms. Rothschilde unfortunately, in her attempt at trying to pop the couple’s happy bubble didn’t calculate what it would mean to actually acknowledge their union by showing herself at the reception.

“Of course I endeavor to always wish you both every happiness.” Rebecca smiled with what little good mood remained, when inside she was fuming. This little rat sought fit to insult her in front of everyone that would be everyone at this reception. A reception that was more charity than anything else to these people.

“Of course,” Molly agreed with a formal nod. Not wishing to keep anyone else waiting. “Will you be staying with your guest for dinner?” Molly questioned politely.

“Oh no, we have another party to be going to at Yardley’s club. I just wanted to stop by and congratulate you on coercing Gregory into your trap. Most clever, little mouse.” Rebecca sneered, looking down her nose at Molly. Lestrade’s hand tightened upon her own and it was all she could do not to reach out and strike the harlot.

“Well you would know all about setting traps wouldn’t you Rebecca.” Molly said looking away from Rebecca to Lestrade and taking his arm. Lestrade smiled down to her and then they both looked back to the couple who suddenly felt very unwanted at the reception.

“I believe we should be going.” The man escorting Rebecca had used the tense silence between the couple, Rebecca and the rest of the room to make their escape. Rebecca smiled saucily to the man and took his arm. He nodded to the groom. “Lestrade.” And he moved Rebecca to the doors that led out of the club.

“Yardley.” Lestrade grumbled as the couple passed and moved out of the building. Once Rebecca was gone both husband and wife let out a collective sigh. Nothing could break their happy bubble today, but did Rebecca Rothschilde come close. The couple greeted the rest of the guests before finally taking their seats for the dinner. Once they were seated at the head table surrounded by Dr. Hooper, Aunt Evelyn, and the bridal party they found a moment to themselves while everyone talked amongst each other and enjoyed themselves. Molly took Lestrade’s hand and looked to him with a worried expression. He gave her a boyish smiled and chuckled. “What’s the matter?” He questioned putting his napkin upon his lap. The man was beyond famished having not eaten since breakfast and then only sparsely because he was so nervous.

“I hope you aren’t upset by what I said to Rebecca.” A delicate blush rose to her cheeks. It hadn’t occurred to her then that Lestrade might have disapproved of her speaking for both of them, like she had when she first met Rebecca.

“Oh no, love. You know how I sometimes can’t control my anger. It was better that you spoke, and you did very well. I was very proud in that moment.” He smiled to his wife reaching in to kiss a blushed cheek. Molly smiled to him and it was then that they commenced with dinner. It was a lovely affair and the food was delicious, the conversation satisfying but still Molly couldn’t help feel the nerves as the moment for the two of them to be alone crept closer and closer. Several speeches were made, including a very lovely one from both the father of the bride and the groom. When the men separated from the women to imbibe some brandy, Molly knew this meant that it would be just a short while until the couple would be off to their honeymoon. The women went off to the tea room where tea and assorted desserts would be served, including the cake for the bride and groom. The women immediately were upon her making sure she was alright, asking her questions about her interactions with Rebecca, and she was twirled about several times as her dress was admired by the women while her Aunt Evelyn provided the details. Once the dress was admired sufficiently as she predicted the married women spent the next several minutes clucking about men marriage and the marriage bed. She looked enviously to the single ladies that sat at the far end of the room who’s ears were to remain chaste, and wished she was still one of them so she didn’t need to know all of the things that the women were choosing to tell her, while gossiping about the sex lives of those they counted among their own friends. Mrs. Watson, that was also among those married women sagely excused the bride so that she might have some tea making the excuse to the ladies that she might need the tea to soothe her nerves before the wedding night. The married women all laughed and continued to cluck about their own wedding nights as Mary brought her to the tea table.

“Thank you so much Mary, I thought they were going to sacrifice me or something.” Molly laughed grateful to finally take some fortifying sips of the warm tea in front of her. Mary smiled to her friend rubbing her arm encouragingly.

“Don’t worry, those ladies appear ruthless but they don’t dissect cadavers for a hobby like you do.” Mary said winking as she took a sip of her own tea. Molly laughed hugging her dear friend. It was then that the men rejoined the party and Aunt Evelyn announced that it was time for the cutting of the cake. Lestrade and Molly did so, and shared their first piece of cake as man and wife. They kissed and once they were finished, before either could think to speak to the other, Molly was whisked away by Aunt Evelyn once again to put on the outer garments for her departure with Lestrade to their honeymoon. Her opera length gloves were replaced with new white kidskin gloves. The train of her dress was buttoned up until it was a more travel appropriate length and Molly was helped into the jacket, hat and just like that Molly was ready to leave. The guests all lined the hall that lead to the front of Alamack’s waiting to wish the couple a bon voyage. Molly was brought to the room where the photographer had taken their picture and Lestrade had also changed from his tuxedo jacket to a dove grey coat. He turned upon hearing the door open and came over embracing Molly. He pulled away putting his hands upon her shoulders.

“Are you ready to leave darling?” Lestrade asked putting her hand into the crook of his arm.

“Yes, Greg, I’m ready.” She smiled allowing him to lead her to the hallway. Once they went into the hallway, loud applause filled the echoing hall as men reached out to shake Lestrade’s hand and pat him on the back and women kissed Molly on the cheek, and when they saw Dr. Hooper and Aunt Evelyn at the door they both stopped and embraced them both. Outside the bridal party and the men from Lestrade’s precinct were waiting with rice and rose petals. Lestrade and Molly took one last moment to look at each other and kissed before running into the carriage dodging flying rice and petals as they went. Once they were in the carriage they waved at their family and they all cheered as the couple kissed as the carriage departed. The couple smiled to one another hearing the farewells from their friends and family echo into the air as they drove off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!!! They're married!!! And I can't wait until the next chapter, the wedding night!!! I hope you all will like it to as I plan to make it quite the naughty little romp. Though if any of you aren't expecting that I apologize I love Lestrade, and Rupert Graves too much not to write it. Muwahahahaha!!! Prepare yourselves, there is some delicious naughtiness in our future!!! Bum Bum Bum!!! This should be fun! :D 
> 
> Oh and for anyone who is wondering, yes there will be another round of gifts before chapter 20 so comment away, i forgot to mention it. Sorry. I just thought the pattern was established... already.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	20. The Honeymoon Delights of Greg Lestrade and his New Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, how sweet loving can be. The honeymoon between Detective and Mrs. Lestrade would be quite a special thing. 
> 
> It would have to be as friends and colleagues of Sherlock Holmes always brings with it more than its fair share of surprises. 
> 
> In wedded bliss, our story continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh kiddies here we are, what you've all been waiting for! The best bits!! For the naughty bits are always the best bits. At least in this writer's opinion. Well evil bits are just as yummy to write. Oh its going to be so goddamn fluffy you'll all hate me because you'll be missing teeth by the end of this. Hopefully the reading of this chapter won't have repercussions that drastic but your hearts might swell with feels. That I can almost certainly promise. 
> 
> And if you happen to be the reader behind the name ReadsALot59 thank you for commenting and since you're new to commenting within the last five chapters you have a gift waiting (in addition to the many I have in the wings... I KNOW I KNOW!!! I'm writing them I promise, my concentration is pulled away from writing them by this story every time.) Contact me where you can, email, social networks and the like and you'll find out what you get!!! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 20**

**The Honeymoon Delights of Greg Lestrade and his New Wife  
**

 

\---

 

_The Wedding Night_

_Autumn, Just Outside London 1891_

 

\---

All at once Lestrade and Molly were surrounded by people and now, Molly noted nervously with the changing static in the air, they were decidedly alone. Molly was a new wife, with duties to perform, alone with her husband. That was a startling bit of reality for her, as she realized the sudden, shocking quiet of the carriage surrounding them with nothing to hear except the horses' hooves on the cobble stones. Molly wondered where they were going, and if once they got to the place, would they be just as alone as now, and what would that mean? Molly was aware of what would happen, of what had been interrupted so many times between them - of what was to be found in Lestrade’s heated glances - by both their family and Lestrade’s chivalry. Would the act change her? Would it change what was between them? She smiled to Lestrade, who was still gazing towards her in a very decided manner, his expressive brown eyes twinkling with possibilities. Her husband unconsciously licked his lips as if he were looking at something delicious he was ready to consume, causing her stomach to flip. Apparently it didn’t change a thing so far.

Molly turned shyly to look at the streets of London that were fading away to the country, a blush high on her cheeks. She wondered where the man she now called husband was taking her, as the entire bridal party seemed to be mum upon this one detail that she was to know nothing about. Greg had this all planned out for them to enjoy, but her nerves refused to let her relax. What was she worried about? This was Greg, and now he was her husband, that was all. Nothing had changed between them. So why did she feel this way? Even though nothing in their relationship had changed, now that they were married it seemed that everything had. Everything between them now held a certain gravity, now there was something anchoring them together, like a port in the storm. Her security, her life, her well-being, all of it was now in the hands of this man she trusted and would need to trust above all others. Lestrade, a man that had been betrayed by women before, was now putting that same trust in her.

No matter how Molly tried, she couldn‘t shake the feeling that something between them had changed. The winds had changed and everything was new again. Like the air of a new season, blowing in to shake off the old to bring with it all the possibilities. Molly took a deep breath and tried with all of her might to let go of this tension she felt, knowing it to be silly and enjoy the time she had alone with her new husband. Once they would be blessed with children that would be hard to come by. She should be thankful for it but now she wished that she knew there might be someone that would walk in and catch them like before. Not for the excitement of it, but before things could become too serious and she would be forever changed. She would become not the Molly she knew now but a new Molly, a sensual version of herself, the version that would be Lestrade’s wife. Now she had no excuse, no reason to be naughty but still maintain her innocence. She heaved a great sigh. She would have to acquaint herself with this new Molly for better or for worse.

“What are you doing Molly?” Lestrade looked at her with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. Her behavior was more than likely decidedly curious to him, she herself thought her own current behavior odd. They had been waiting the entire night to be alone and now that they were alone, she was terrified. Probably not very typical of a virgin bride, glad to find herself alone with her love, ready to be alone with her husband. Molly looked to him over her shoulder, he was all the way at the other end of the carriage, an ocean of space between them.

“I’m looking out the window.” Molly said matter-of-factly. Lestrade made an exasperated expression at her and she found it quite adorable enough to have a giggle at his expense. “I’m looking at the passing scenery. I’ve never been this far out of London before.” Molly explained herself, once again turning towards the scenery that had faded away from sprawling London, to the village outskirts and now to pure countryside, little hamlets and villages dotting the rolling hills and hedgerows surrounded by woods, parish steeples raised high above the cottages that seemed to huddle against the churches for warmth against the autumn breezes. England, her native country, was quite beautiful. The sky was clinging to the last light of day, a tinge of orange on the horizon as the evening purple was fading to night.

“Come here, wife.” Lestrade grumbled happily, pulling Molly to him away from the window by the waist causing Molly to shriek. Once she was safe against Lestrade’s solid form she immediately relaxed. She giggled shyly and looked up to Greg as his arm came around her to hold her tight to his warm person. Molly failed her attempt at holding back a yawn, between all of the excitement of the wedding, the motion of the carriage, and Lestrade’s comforting embrace she was being lulled against her will into falling asleep. She felt Lestrade kiss her forehead and looked up and smiled sleepily. “I promise you there is only night and trees between here and our destination, you should sleep.” Lestrade smiled softly leaning down for a quick kiss. Molly hugged Lestrade tightly around his middle and settled it to do just as her husband suggested. He was right after all. The night had snuck up upon the carriage and there was nothing to see but shadows and the passing trees. How long had they been traveling upon this road?

“Where are we going Greg?” Molly questioned, curious as ever.

“No, no, I won’t be giving it away. You shall simply have to wait and be surprised.” Lestrade smirked wagging his eyebrows, Molly simply rolled her eyes and laid her head upon where Lestrade’s chest where his heart beat strong and sure. Lestrade chuckled and laid his head upon hers and together in the silence and rocking of the carriage the couple fell into a sleep that would last the entire length of the journey that would convey them to their destination.

 

\---

 

Molly felt herself being gently shook and a familiar hand was embracing her face, a wide thumb delicately rubbing her cheek. “Wake up, little mouse. We’re here.” Molly whimpered, squeezing her eyes to encourage them to open, even though her body screamed to simply burrow back into the strong, solid shoulder upon which her head had been so comfortably seated. She heard the voice chuckle and once Molly could focus her gaze met Lestrade’s as she finally rose from her slumber. “Sleeping beauty, I presume.” Lestrade smiled down upon Molly and she smiled back, blushing at being caught unawares, wiping at her eyes and stretching to rouse herself.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but alas it’s just your mousey wife.” Molly laughed at her own expense.

“I fail to see to the difference.” Lestrade gallantly argued with Molly petulantly upon the point. Molly kissed him for his effort. She looked out and saw that they had finally reached an inn. It was a very picturesque type of inn most definitely not typical of any place nearer to London, they must have traveled far.

Lestrade opened the door to the carriage and offered Molly a hand down which she gladly took ready to stretch her legs and looked around. There was nothing but the quiet of sleeping nature around them and along where they were the residents appeared to be quiet and snug in their homes. “What time is it, Greg?” Molly questioned looking around, she swore in the distance she could hear a rolling thunder, but instead of dissipating it continued to roll. She had never heard it before but could it be the ocean?

“It’s just gone eleven love.” Lestrade announced once he finished speaking to the innkeeper and his wife. He watched Molly take in what little evidence in her current surroundings she could as well as how far they must have traveled, and watched her mind working. He came up behind her and swung her about. “Now, now, you’ll find out where we are in the morning I have other plans for this evening, Wife.” Lestrade and Molly laughed as he brought her before the quaint innkeeper and his wife. “Allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars. I’ve known them for years and have been holidaying here since I was a lad. Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars, my wife Mrs. Molly Lestrade.” Lestrade smiled as they congratulated Molly and embraced her. Mrs. Ferrars gave Molly a bundle of flowers and escorted the newlyweds into the parlor where a small, warm meal was prepared for two. Lestrade thanked the couple handing his hat, gloves and coat to Mr. Ferrars.

“Mr. Ferrars and I thought that the two of you might be hungry after such a long journey.” Molly thanked them as did Lestrade, when he did however the couple made themselves scarce knowing that they were dismissed. Molly wondered when she would be able to harness that type of power and authority. Once again Molly found herself alone with her husband.

“Shall I pour the champagne?” Lestrade asked taking the seat opposite Molly once he assisted Molly into her chair. She smiled and nodded. As much as she did eat during the reception, she had still been far too excited to eat properly and found herself still hungry even though it was such a late hour. Lestrade poured the champagne and used the opportunity of putting the champagne back in its seau to take Molly’s hand in his own. “Is everything alright, Molly?” Lestrade questioned looking up from his plate to meet her eyes. She seemed to be rather nervous. Anyone would have noticed so she wasn’t surprised when Lestrade seemed worried enough to make mention of it. That he most definitely didn’t want. There was no reason for it.

“Everything looks wonderful Greg. I couldn’t be more happy than if you brought in a cadaver for me to autopsy after we eat.” Molly covered her mouth and Greg looked to her with a boyish smile and laughed, this answer having eased whatever worries he had thought were plaguing his wife. He knew her nature and hoped she wasn’t perturbed by the expectations of the wedding night. He had none. If she simply wanted to go to sleep tonight and spend the rest of the honeymoon as they had been before the wedding he would do it if only to see her happy. No matter how much his libido railed against the idea.

“I hope you aren‘t worried about sharing your privacy with me. I know how difficult that can be at first.” Molly finally met his eyes then and reached across the table to take his other in hers, which Greg did gladly.

“I’m only worried that you either won’t like myself anymore once you know all of my faults, or that we will change for one another once we…” Molly could not finish the thought as she gulped. The hand that Lestrade had been holding was now shaking slightly and Molly pulled her hand away and put both into her lap.

Lestrade instead of staying upon his side of the table rose and came to kneel in front of Molly. He took her hands that were restless in her lap and kissed the palms of each before enveloping them in his larger ones. She would have thought Lestrade would have just laughed at her and called her ridiculous. However Lestrade took everything concerning his Molly very seriously.

“Do you trust me?” Lestrade questioned. At Molly’s nod he continued. “Nothing will change, Molly. You’re not going to magically turn into a different woman, will you?”

“No.” Molly answered Greg and laughed at the silliness of his question, she knew what he was doing, trying to get her not to worry by asking the ridiculous.

“You love me, and I love you.” Lestrade announced the obvious, kissing her hand once more. “So don’t worry about the details, or what anyone says about tonight and what is or isn‘t supposed to happen. We shall let the love between us be our guide, eh?” A blush rose to Molly’s cheeks at his words, her eyes misty and with her confirming nod, Lestrade rose to kiss her. Now that this little worry was put aside he sat to eat glad to see Molly felt a little lighter than before. They supped quite merrily, and then were shown to their rooms by Mr. Ferrars.

 

\---

 

Upon entering the rooms, the largest in the inn, Molly covered her mouth in awe. It always amazed her at what luxuries, what wealth, she had married into, and quite by accident too. Unlike most, when she first got to know Lestrade, she had no idea of Lestrade’s family or his reputation, she only saw the man, the detective inspector who came to her home to speak with her father about autopsies and blood tests. Now though was a moment where the rest of it began to sink in for her, that she had married into the family Lestrade. The rooms were on the top floor of the inn, and took up the entire floor. A large fireplace was burning warmly, a fur rug set in front of it. A chaise lounge, settee, and large leather wingback chair with a twin footstool encircled the living room before the fire. Bountiful, luscious flowers, freshly picked from the hot house, were to be found in vases wherever a table sat giving the room a heady sent and upon entering the bedroom there were chocolates, strawberries, cakes, pastries, and more champagne to be found. Molly crossed the bedroom, pointedly ignoring the bed that was covered in a shower of rose petals and opened one adjoining door that lead to a marbled bathroom completely with a copper tub big enough for two people. At another door was a changing room fitted with Lestrade’s trunks and the third door more than likely contained another a changing room for herself. She peeked in to see it was, complete with a vanity and a full length gilded mirror. It was quite the beautiful set of rooms. Much more than she could have ever hoped for, she certainly felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

“So how do you like it?” Lestrade questioned slipping what looked like a missive into his breast pocket before coming up to embrace Molly from behind where she stood at the window as she gazed at the stars and harvest moon. His hands were rubbing patterns into her form in a most decided manner and Molly found it hard to focus suddenly.

“I’m the luckiest woman in the world.” Molly managed to say despite Lestrade’s discombobulating touch. This whole entire twist her life had taken felt like a dream. The more time she spent with Lestrade the more surreal her life felt.

“And I’m the luckiest man.” Lestrade concurred. “Can I get you anything?” He felt Molly shake her head no and then lean more into his touch. So his wife wanted to be in his embrace. That he definitely had no objection to, wrapping Molly up more firmly in his arms. Lestrade brought her close enough that not a bit of air between their bodies. He nuzzled her head with his own and encouraged her head to fall back further onto his shoulder, exposing her porcelain neck to his eyes. Unfortunately as he looked down most of it was still covered by the high neck of her dress and the travel coat she still wore. No matter, that could come off easily enough in a little while. Now he could look upon her all he liked and not feel like a naughty school boy by doing so, he took full advantage of the opportunity and allowed his mouth to feast upon the supple flesh to be found there. At Molly’s sigh he continued until his mouth found her ear, Greg felt a shiver course through Molly and smiled against the shell of her ear. “How about you and I both get out of these costumes and into something far more comfortable?”

The suggestion alone would have made Molly’s stomach fill with butterflies, however having it whispered in Lestrade’s gravely, growl of a voice against her ear caused a moan to slip from Molly’s mouth unabated. Lestrade let go of her, chuckling. He was definitely proud as a rooster at his effect upon Molly and left her bereft, standing before the window, her body still quaking. “I’ll take that as a yes. Pull the bell cord if you need anything.” She looked back just in time to see the proud, boyish smile upon Lestrade’s face before he went into the opposite room to change.

 

\---

 

Molly had a feeling that there would be one day she would both hate and love that smile of his but right now on the other side of the door in her dressing room, she used the door for support while she caught her breath for it made her weak in the knees. At that moment, her heart was trying to work its way out of her chest when Lestrade smiled to her that way. She needed to calm down.

Now that she had some privacy Molly had a chance to investigate the clothes she found within the changing room, apparently they were all new. Boxes and boxes were scattered all over the room. Nothing of her own was to be found except for what was within the two travel bags and the now rather small trunk she originally packed. There was a note to be found in one of the boxes containing what looked like several night gowns, none of which left much to the imagination. Molly blushed dropping the one she picked up to look at, thinking of how little she might be wearing them at all and how little it would leave to the imagination when she put it on. Upon opening the note she found her Aunt’s writing saying that her husband requested all of the garments she saw before her and that she was not to think of the cost and was to enjoy herself, Aunt’s and husband’s orders. Molly laughed seeing the boxes that seemed to crowd the entire room, it quite overwhelmed her at the number of them. Where was she to start? Shaking her head at all the clutter before her, Molly backed up into the room grabbing at what she thought was the pull for the curtain only to pull a cord that rang a bell within the inn. She gasped backing up to the bench that was before the vanity, with a bit of an undignified thump. She was so overwhelmed with it all, it felt all like too much. She hoped with all of her might that she wouldn’t become used to such opulence, it just wasn’t the Hooper way. But then again, could she call herself a Hooper anymore? Within minutes a scratching came from the door next to the cord. A young maid appeared dressed but not quite ready for bed.

“May I be of service madam?” The maid questioned stepping into the room with a curtsey. The maid looked to Molly wondering why she had summoned a maid, Molly was almost too stupefied to speak. After a few attempts to speak, Molly cleared her throat and was successful.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you and the late hour. I-I-I’m afraid I’m uh a bit overwhelmed. I need help, with um… and I don’t know… where…” The sentence Molly had been attempting to form petered off unfinished. The maid came over and laid a warm hand upon Molly’s shoulder. She smiled down to Molly in understanding.

“It’s alright madam. Lets get you out of these clothes and into something more comfortable for bed, yes?” At Molly’s nod, the girl opened up several of the boxes revealing a robe, heeled slippers, several perfumes and also opened the trunk and bags taking out everything Molly would need to be ready to rejoin Greg with in the bedroom. Molly watched the girl move several boxes revealing another chair and a table, and laid out Molly‘s night things as Molly removed the few pins from her hair holding it up. Molly was about to retrieve her new brush from her bag when it magically appeared at her elbow. The maid smiled down at Molly and returned to the task she was performing, while Molly tried to relax by brushing her hair. She approached Molly once she had all the items to dress Molly for bed. Molly put down her brush and the maid gave her an encouraging smile. With wide eyes Molly stood and allowed herself to be divested of her wedding clothes, which were shaken out to be packed again later. Molly blushed as the maid worked just as quickly and dispatched her of her undergarments as well with efficiency, completely undaunted by seeing a lady in such a state of undress.. Before Molly could feel even remotely bashful she was then dressed in her night gown. The little maid offered her a lavender scented perfume but Molly waved it away. She took a deep breath and made her way to the door, trying to have the courage to turn the knob on the door and go back into the bedroom.

Molly jumped when the maid spoke again. “Shall I unpack the rest of this lot madam?” The maid looked to her questioning. Molly shook her head.

“All this? No, leave it for the morning, you should sleep. You may go.” The maid gave Molly a bright smile, apparently unused to the guests thinking of the servants. She left begging Molly to call her should she need anything at all. Molly was again alone, still holding onto the handle of the door when there was a tap from the other side of it causing her to jump.

“Molly are you alright in there?” Lestrade’s voice rumbled from the other side of it. Molly laughed to herself at the state of her nerves and swung open the door causing Greg to jump backward as if startled, not expecting the door to swing open as soon as he talked to it. He was wrapped in a robe but had taken off everything except his dress shirt and pants, and Molly noted with a strange delight that his feet were bare.

Molly smiled to Lestrade and her husband forgot how to breathe. There she was before him in a shift that was barely anything. The light from the dressing room illuminated the gown from behind as the sun did that special morning when he slept over the first night of their courtship. Once again he noticed the curves barely hidden underneath the veil of fabric but no longer would it all be kept secret from him. And her hair was completely loose and tumbled gently over her shoulders, he had a feeling that this would be a favorite way for him to see her hair. If he had his way, Molly would never have need to go out in public again so she would always wear it down. Molly blushed, noticing the change in Lestrade’s expression as he eyed her hungrily and tried to walk forward to embrace him, tripping. Just like her, too. Molly wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t ruin a moment by tripping, falling, spilling something, just wreaking general clumsy havoc, just making a mess of everything in general. She fell into Greg’s arms that were ready to catch her.

“Oh, clumsy old me. I guess that will never change.” Molly looked up to her husband shyly, the blush she wore all night spreading from her cheeks to her sprightly nose. Greg smiled down to her closing the gap between them. Molly gasped under his kiss, surprised that her clumsiness could bring out such a reaction from the man.

“I hope it never does.” Lestrade rasped moving away from her mouth and down her jaw and down further still having his fill of Molly. She was a feast and Greg felt as if he had been fasting for years. But as much as he was having, her gasps and moans speaking of how thoroughly he was devouring her skin, he still wanted, needed, more. He picked her up and gathered her up into his arms. “I wanted us to have a little champagne to celebrate a bit but-” Lestrade looked to her darkly, licking his lips.

“Please, Greg. Don’t stop.” Molly pleaded pulling his head down to continue kissing her, threading her fingers through his silver hair that was delectably soft, almost like fur. Lestrade carried Molly over to the bed and laid her down upon the scattered petals. Lestrade attempted to make quick work of his clothes but was struggling with the buttons on his shirt and pants, Molly rose onto her knees impatient to see her husband in all of his… glory. Her shaking hands did little to assist the man in his mission to divest himself of his clothes so instead her shaking hands went to the robe she wore, quickly discarding it and then to the hem of her own night gown to pull it over her head. She didn’t know what the sudden urgency was to be loved by Greg but everything in her body screamed for his touch now.

“Oi!“ Molly gasped, releasing the hem of her nightgown as if burnt. Lestrade smirked finally shucking his shirt and unbuttoned his pants but left them on for now. “I believe that’s my job.” Lestrade licked his lips ready to finally see and taste what lay underneath Molly’s nightgown.

Grabbing the hem Molly had just let go of, Lestrade slowly pulled the gown up and over Molly’s head and tossed the unwelcome thing away. It fell to the floor with a sad sort of poof. Greg looked to Molly as she tried to not cover herself looking away, blush now high on her cheeks. She did not see the love that was shining through Greg’s eyes. He brought a finger under her chin so that she finally met his eyes and saw how loved she was by him. Molly had to remember how to breathe. “Beautiful.” Lestrade smiled down onto his wife and brought her into his arms. Lestrade groaned against her lips as they kissed, feeling the luscious, warm curves of his wife’s body pressed against the very thin fabric now separating them. He was a patient man but there was only so much he could take, and now feeling all of Molly, he wanted to taste and be wrapped up in her.

Under the encouragement of Lestrade, the kiss deepened just as kisses between them usually did and Molly felt the warmth she usually felt when they kissed like this bloom deep inside her. Lestrade moved down her neck, taking his time and a delicious ache began to grow deep inside her as well. Molly shivered as she felt Lestrade nibble and suck at her neck, when he found a certain spot where her pulse was thrumming something inside her quaked and she let out a noise that was quite unladylike. Somewhere between a moan and a growl and Lestrade growled against her skin in answer, lowering her down onto the bed. Lestrade removed his own pants before he joined her covering her body with his own. He moved down her body taking time to tease her breasts, Molly moaned holding his head there scratching at Lestrade’s scalp. When he moaned into her skin as he moved further down, she whimpered in reply.

When he finally kissed and nibbled his way past her hip and her thighs to their junction where Lestrade eyed her womanly bits in a very decided way. When Molly blushed and tried to cover herself Lestrade moved her hands aside giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“No hiding now.” Lestrade looked up at her with a cheeky smile. He looked down Molly’s body and back up, licking his lips. “I’m sorry, my love, I know you’re feeling shy but I _have_ to taste you.” Lestrade growled ferociously, like what he was about to do to her person was out of his control. She couldn’t understand what drove his hunger, but was feeling more than just the effects of it as her body rippled with anticipation. When he reached his destination, she felt Lestrade use his mouth on her quim, he kissed her there and then slowly opened her up and loved her with his mouth. Molly, for her part, was without control of her own body it seemed. She was a moaning and writhing mess, calling out his name like a litany, gasping it, crying out for him. He brought her hips closer to his face when the pleasure seemed to be to much as she tried to scamper away, and she realized her hands were able to reach out and grasp at Lestrade’s hair. She didn’t mean to but she pulled on it when she felt his tongue circle her clitoris again for what felt like the hundredth time. She didn’t mean to but Lestrade was teasing her not giving fully into the urge to use his mouth exactly where he knew would bring Molly to the completion she didn’t know she herself needed and was desiring. No he wanted to hear her beg, wanted to hear her gasp for it. He growled when she pulled on his hair, the vibrations making her let out a rather loud moan.

“Greg. Please!” Molly didn’t know what she was begging him for but her whole body was aching, wound tight like a wind-up box waiting for something to let go, she just didn’t know what.

“What do you want Molly? Tell me.” Lestrade demanded digging his fingertips into the flesh of her thighs. She looked down moaning at seeing his eyes darkened by the lust he felt. He hadn’t even pleasured himself, just devouring her was enough to excite him. Knowing that, it made her moan.

“I don’t know, I just- please! More!” Molly begged thrashing her head back, letting out a whimper at the lack of contact. Lestrade when back to what he was doing before teasing her until finally he flicked his tongue over her bundle of nerves. Her whole body quaked, hip jumping off the bed, and Molly let out a cry of satisfaction. At the cry, Lestrade touched her there again, over and over until Molly came flooding his mouth and cried out. Greg used her orgasm as a distraction, and slowly entered her filling the empty space that her body demanded be filled as it quaked. He had to stop himself from going further, feeling her muscles clench around him, or else this would all be over before it even began. She was deliciously snug around him and it took everything in his will power to hold himself back from taking the pleasure his body ached for, so much so that sweat covered his brow and gave his muscles an attractive sheen.

When Molly came back down from her high, she saw Lestrade looking down at her and realized he had entered her while she wasn’t conscious of it. However she could feel he wasn’t finished. He reached down and gave her a searing kiss, Molly could taste herself on his mouth as his tongue danced with hers. He moved forward while he kissed her until he was met with resistance and Molly whimpered against his mouth. He pulled back and caressed the side of her face allowing his thumb to rub across her swollen lips, he moaned when Molly’s tongue reached out to lick at it. Their eyes met and Lestrade reached out for the hand that was by her head to thread their fingers together and the other hand he put on her hip.

“I promise you,” he rasped looking down at her, “that no matter what pain you feel I will make up for it.” Molly nodded and Lestrade slowly pushed forward. The pain made Molly cry out and grabbed at the hand that was already holding her own. Tears of pain fell out of her eyes and Lestrade kissed them away and squeezed her hand back in understanding. The pain she felt was unavoidable and he pushed in a little bit farther and finally he was joined with his wife completely.

Greg moaned at this realization letting his weight fall on her kissing her chest encouraging little moans to come from Molly’s mouth as pain gave away to pleasure. Molly hugged his head to her chest and moaned when Lestrade’s hips gave a minuscule thrust on instinct. Lestrade moaned in reply, smiling against her chest and did it again, this time on purpose. Molly cried out grabbing at Lestrade. His movements made her whole body ripple with pleasure. When he started moving slowly, deeply in earnest, Molly was letting out an almost constant moan of pleasure.

Molly was trapped in a world of sensation. She was floating along a sea of pleasure, and every powerful thrust she received from Greg was a wave crashing into her, shaking her, transforming her. Something began to bloom inside her, something bigger than the orgasm from before, as she began to move with Greg causing him to groan against Molly’s skin making a shudder a pleasure echo through her as she chased the growing pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him, encouraging the man to go deeper, answering her body‘s pleas for more. Greg was like the sun opening up a morning flower. That was how his love felt in this moment, warm yet too bright to look at, to even dream of, never would she have thought that his love would feel like this. It was somewhere painfully between too much and yet not enough. Every time she wanted to run from it her body called out for more. More. More. The feeling was building as Lestrade moved faster and harder, she heard him moaning almost as much as Molly was, their moans filling the air, as he bit into the skin at her chest and collar bone. Unconsciously Molly dug her nails into the muscles of his back causing Greg to groan into her skin he was biting, making Molly writhe. The sensation sent goose bumps all over her flesh and making it sensitive and conductive, every touch from Greg was like static electricity. It was divine yet torturous. She clung to him, begging for more pleasure. He was all at once her anchor and her tormentor. As if looking down upon herself from up above, the noises she couldn’t control even if she tried sounded like they came from some other person, yet she moaned and cried her husband’s name and Lestrade answered back in kind. Molly was pleading and for what she didn’t know. Something was coming she couldn’t, and didn’t want to escape.

Greg for his part couldn’t imagine watching anything so beautiful as his wife before him losing herself to carnal delight, he peeled himself from the supple, deliciously puckered flesh of her breasts to watch as she approached the precipice. Lestrade deepened his thrusts and brought a hand down to add friction to his thrusts and in a few strokes Molly cried out, nails digging into Lestrade’s back. Lestrade rode out her orgasm finding his own completion, all of the stimulus nearing the edge of too much as he finally found release her name tumbling from his lips like a prayer, a secret promise to love her forever. Molly’s body was still quaking as Lestrade fell back down on top of her. Molly held Lestrade’s head to her chest repeating “I love you.” repeatedly, first out loud and then over and over in a whisper. Lestrade, languishing in his own post coital haze answered back in kind with a soft rumble and nipped at the skin that pillowed his head loving the way her body let out one last moan in reply. Once Lestrade was recovered enough to realize he was more than likely crushing his wife under his considerable weight, he muttered an apology and moved to lay beside her. Molly grimaced at the feeling of no longer being joined with her husband and immediately turned into his embrace. Lestrade was worried a bit as he felt Molly clung to him, then his suspicions were confirmed when he felt her shoulders shake softly. Molly was crying. He looked down and kissed the tears away, enfolding his wife in his embrace.

“What’s the matter?” Lestrade questioned looking down at Molly’s still weeping form. Lestrade pulled the now dislodged blankets about them and tangled his legs with Molly’s. The warmth Lestrade radiated was a comfort and it did start to ease her crying.

“I don’t know, I just can’t seem to stop.” Molly gasped and sobbed Lestrade looked down to her and cooed rubbing his hands over her skin which rippled under his touch. Never had he pleasured a woman so thoroughly that her body still quaked from orgasm so long after. He really tried to comfort Molly through her tears, but he couldn’t be anything less than proud about it. After a few minutes, Molly’s tears abated and she leaned back to meet Lestrade’s eyes. He eased her mouth open with a slow, liquid kiss that no longer contained the hurried passion of before but the lazy, warmth that came with the bliss of having made love so thoroughly, wiping at the tear tracks with his thumbs. Molly took a deep breath and sighed into the crook of Lestrade’s neck and they fell into a companionable silence, Lestrade rubbing circles into her hips lazily with his fingers.

“This might be bragging a bit but I must say, I’ve never quite felt anything like that before.” Lestrade announced into the air. Molly lifted her head off of his shoulder where it was comfortably situated to look into Lestrade’s eyes, to give him a skeptical glance.

“Really?” She wondered if he was lying for her benefit. Lestrade laughed at her doubting of him. She knew she felt something otherworldly in their love making but had assumed it was just because she new to this lovemaking business.

“I mean it.” Still she cast a skeptical brow towards him. “Really! Look, most of the time love making is tolerable, and for the most part tension release, but there are only a handful of times where it is truly great. But this was… so much more than that.” Lestrade finished his speech, his voice filled with love and gravely making shivers run down Molly’s spine. She put her head pack onto her husband’s shoulder and hummed in agreement.

“It was something, wasn’t it.” She concurred, kissing the skin under her head.

“Yes it was.” Lestrade concluded encouraging her to move onto her other side so he could cuddle with her properly. “Sleep now, wife.” Lestrade encouraged with a yawn. Molly grabbed the hand near her head and encouraged Lestrade to muscle her into a bear hug of a snuggle, his other arm coming around her waist while the his legs wrapped around hers. The security of his embrace was perfect, warm, and everything she ever wanted, and with a final sigh she was eased into a peaceful sleep.

They were so blissful and unaware that they never heard the click of a latch from the widow in the sitting room. They never heard the shuffle of shoes on carpet. Neither did they know that upon waking what lied in waiting for them.

 

\---

 

It was well into the morning when Molly’s eyes were nudged awake by the brightening morning sun. She woke up and in the middle of the night, Molly noticed they had separated slightly but Lestrade’s arm was still to be found around her as if he was reaching out for her unconsciously. Molly looked over to Lestrade’s sleeping form and smiled. His brow and eyes now relaxed in sleep matched his other boyish features. She hoped that their sons would one day inherit his boyish good looks and brown eyes. Molly gave his person one more fond look before dislodging herself and carefully rising from the bed to look out the bedroom windows, the view no longer shrouded in darkness. Molly gasp audibly when she saw the White Cliffs of Dover in the distance and the sea. She had never seen the ocean, or those great bleached cliffs and now she was seeing both from her honeymoon window. It was magnificent. There was a throat cleared behind her and she looked guiltily back at Lestrade who sat up on his elbow in a most attractive way revealing his torso to her privileged gaze.

“Couldn’t wait for me could you?” Lestrade smirked sleepily at her as he would a caught suspect. He shook his head in her direction and rose from the bed putting on his pants from last night. He came over with the sheet and wrapped her in it.

“Sorry.” Molly apologized sincerely with a sheepish smile as she accepted a good morning kiss that said so many more things than good morning.

“Good morning, Wife.” Lestrade said once he pulled away, his face breaking out in a crooked grin he couldn’t stop.

“Good morning, Husband.” Molly smiled lovingly to him before turning back around to enjoy the view some more.

“Shall I go ring for breakfast while you enjoy the view.” Molly nodded excitedly and Lestrade chuckled putting on his robe before going into the sitting room.

He entered but didn’t get more than four steps into the room before he was whacked upon the back of the head. He groaned hitting the floor face first, knocking over a vase that broke. He wasn’t completely knocked out but was disoriented seeing stars. He moaned hoping that Molly didn’t show herself, knowing that she’d be the target of whatever lowlife just decided to throttle him.

“Greg?” Molly called out hearing the noises coming from the sitting room. When she opened the door she saw Lestrade lying on the floor. “Greg!” Molly came to his side shaking the poor man, who groaned again in response to being shook. He tried sitting up looking to her.

“One of these days, bastards won’t see fit to hit me on the back of the head.” Lestrade grumbled when an arm came around Molly’s neck and pulled her away, knife to her throat. Molly let out a scream but was silenced when the scoundrel dug the knife into her skin with a clear threat. The Detective Inspector side of Lestrade remembered that knife very clearly, as he stood up. It was the knife that put the new scar upon his shoulder. Greg tried to encourage the man to see reason. “Now there’s no reason to create a fuss. You’re already under suspicion for the Fogerty murder and I doubt you’ll be getting away, so why don’t you and I talk and you let the lady go.” Molly struggled with the man.

The man backed up with Molly until they stood in front of the fireplace where a dying fire clung to life. “You’d like that wouldn’t you, it would make it so easy for you wouldn’t it? Well I haven’t had it easy sir. I would sooner take this knife to you or your wife than I would surrender.” The man’s eyes were crazed as he tried looking for an exit to escape with his hostage.

“You won’t be going anywhere with my wife so don’t. Even. Try. It.” Lestrade growled, angry that the man would have the audacity to think he could separate the couple. Lestrade would kill the man before he let that happen. Unfortunately his gun was lying safely tucked and locked away inside his trunk.

“One move and I’ll have my way with your pretty little slut.” The assailant lifted her head backwards on the tip of the blade, when Lestrade tried to advance upon them from his spot on the floor. Lestrade and Molly shared a heated gaze, reminding them both of the last time Molly game close to being killed by a knife to her neck. “No one to protect you here little missy. I didn’t get to finish what I started when Sherlock Holmes chased me down and I put my blade into our Detective Inspector here.” The man chuckled obscenely into Molly’s ears. “You’ve got no one to save you now.” The man chuckled into Molly’s ear, the unfortunate criminal didn’t mind his surrounding to see he backed them up near the fireplace tools.

“You’re wrong if you think I’m a helpless damsel.” Molly warned before the criminal was whacked in the face by a fireplace shovel that Molly swung over her shoulder. He let her go with a growl and backed away dropping the knife he had been wielding. In his blind anger he tried to reach out for Molly again with his bear hands, and Molly swiftly brought the shovel down upon his head. The cast iron let out a ring, and the man crashed to the floor in a heap. Molly backed away from his form, not trusting that he was indeed passed out. Lestrade quickly rose into action and checked. He even checked the man’s pulse to make sure he wasn’t dead. Lestrade pulled his robe belt out from its loops and used it as a makeshift rope to subdue the bastard. He then turned around and brought Molly into his embrace, kissing her soundly.

“You should probably go put on something less revealing while I get the Ferrars.” Molly blushed looking down at the sheet she was wearing, then back up laughing at Greg’s cheeky grin. She slipped into the bedroom just as there was a knock at the door.

“Ah, Lestrade! I see you and Molly managed to wrangled the intruder. John and I were worried.” Molly groaned as she tied her robe over the nightgown she slipped back on, they should have known that Sherlock was behind something like this. She popped into her dressing room and did what she for her hair. She came out just in time to hear Lestrade go on a rant.

“You know Sherlock this is my honeymoon. The last thing I want is to be whacked on the head by some suspect of your’s because he follows me about.” Lestrade was fuming, and if Molly was reading his face correctly a bit embarrassed at being caught by his friends in the middle of what was to be an intimate moment between the two of them. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think this was your way of interrupting us. What do the American‘s call it? A Shivaree?” Lestrade looked to Molly and immediately came to her side. “And you almost endangered Molly again, and that I won’t stand for.” Lestrade’s eyes showed more worry over Molly than they did anything else but in front of everyone there was not much he could do in ways of showing it, and it took everything within Molly to ignore her body’s pull to embrace Greg in the light of the new morning. It was funny, she hadn’t really noticed how she felt since she became wrapped up in all of this chaos. Being with Lestrade certainly made her more confident, indeed she felt more comfortable in her own skin than she ever had, even when wearing next to nothing as she was now.

“Lestrade I wouldn’t dream of interrupting the late morning dalliances of a newly wedded couple, but I was waiting for the man to show himself. John and I had lost his trail last night, and it was just this morning that we thought he might come here after you.” Sherlock explained himself, indeed they had just knocked upon the door to their rooms once they heard the crash from outside the inn. It was then that Mr. Ferrars came up to see what the newly wedded couple required and stood at the doorway shocked at seeing an unconscious body on the floor.

“My word! Detective Inspector Lestrade, sir, what is going on here? Are these men disturbing you?” Mr. Ferrars questioned looking from Sherlock to John ready to remove them and the man tied up on the floor so that the couple might have their privacy.

“Yes they’re bothering us but unfortunately we know these two. They’re friends of ours. Mr. Ferrars, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and Dr. John Watson.” Mr. Ferrars immediately recognized two of the most famous men in England and went about vigorously shaking their hands.

“Yes Mr. Ferrars, you’re the innkeeper of this establishment, yes?” Sherlock questioned, not waiting for the blubbering man to be able to do anything other that say how honored he was to have such men in his establishment.

“Yes, sir.” Mr. Ferrars lifted an eyebrow at Sherlock’s blunt speech.

“I believe you should send a man out to wake up the magistrate and a barrister if at all possible. This man is to be put under arrest and as soon as possible. And if you wouldn’t mind I don’t believe the newlyweds have had their breakfast yet.” Sherlock concluded backing the man out of the room. Mr.Ferrars, all flustered, sought out the magistrate himself and sent the other instructions to his wife.

Once the magistrate and local barrister both appeared, they were quick about seeing the man arrested, and in proper handcuffs without explanation. They simply took Sherlock’s word as gold. Most especially when he deduced the man that had been suspect not only of the murder that was now solved as he confessed, but also about stabbing Lestrade in the street and wanting to do the same to again to both the Detective Inspector and his new wife, which was why he broke into their honeymoon suite earlier that morning under the cover of darkness. He was swiftly removed by the magistrate and his men with the local barrister both reading the man his rights and asking the lovely couple to a formal dinner at his manor during the course of their stay.

Molly shivered and locked gazes with Lestrade knowing that either or both of them could have been dead. Molly tried her best but all she wanted to do was be alone with Greg in that moment. It was a reminder of how dangerous solving crimes and battling with the scourge of London could be. There was a throat cleared and they looked across the room to see Sherlock deducing what he could of the gaze they shared and John was blushing trying to politely look everywhere but at the couple, knowing what that look had meant to himself and Mary when they were on their honeymoon.

“Well I believe that the couple is wanting some privacy. Mr. Ferrars see that Mrs. Ferrars delays the setting out of breakfast for, oh I’d say, at least an hour and I believe that John and I will take breakfast down in the parlor before we make our way back to London. Come along, John.” John looked to see Sherlock was already well out of the room, made an awkward gesture that he was going to follow Sherlock and left the room calling out to his best friend.

“I do apologize for the inconvenience this morning, Detective Inspector. I hope this won’t reflect poorly upon this establishment.” Mr. Ferrars looked to Lestrade and hoped that he would be an understanding patron. It was only a matter of time before half the customers heard of the incident and would want to pack up and leave.

“Absolutely not, we apologize for unknowingly bringing the London element with us. We’ll ring when we will be wanting breakfast. You have a good morning, Mr. Ferrars.” Lestrade practically shoved the elder innkeeper out of the room and threw the latch on the door, effectively giving the both of them some much needed privacy. Greg braced his hands upon the door and took a breath, before turning around to meet Molly’s gaze again. Molly reached out for him automatically with a sob. He scooped Molly up into his arms, muttering endearments and assurances until they crashed onto the bed. The couple was gossiped about, and it was said that they didn’t call for breakfast until well into the afternoon and didn’t come out from their rooms for supper until the evening, whereupon they returned to their rooms and weren’t seen or heard from again until well into the next day.

 

\---

 

However glorious the first two days of their honeymoon had been, and Lestrade smirked in memory, for there really was no other word for their love making other than glorious, he wanted Molly to actually see the wonderful landscapes and attractions that Dover had to offer. So it was under his advisement that they take their honeymoon out of doors, away from all the temptations that the bedroom and Molly’s naked curves had to offer. The practical, instead of luxurious, exercise would do them both a world of good.

Greg and Molly set out towards the cliffs and the surrounding environs, and Greg was glad to notice that Molly seemed excited to see them. She was as impatient as a child, practically skipping along side him as they walked. They stopped at certain points along the walk to view the cliffs and the beautiful landscape they created. Molly absolutely adored these new sights before her, never before having ventured out of London, to come to see something so wonderful, she kissed Lestrade grateful to be lucky enough to love him. She pulled him along several times by the hand, anxious to finally reach the beach where she could really look up at the cliffs. He laughed when she let go of his hand to run towards the pebbled beach towards the ocean. Molly turned around along the beach, loving to feel the spray of the ocean upon her face as the waves crashed along the beach. As she spun, she watched Greg slowly approach her. Once he was near enough to touch her, she stopped spinning and turned to face him with a beatific smile upon her face. Greg brought her into his arms just as she reached out to kiss him.

“I have a surprise for you.” Lestrade announced bringing their journey to the top of the cliffs. Molly gasped seeing the blanket and picnic basket laid out for them. Molly kissed him excited to picnic on the cliffs. Well into the meal Lestrade tore his gaze away from the vistas to look at Molly. Her eyes were closed and he had never quite seen an expression upon her face such as the one he observed. It looked as if she was in some far off place, if only he knew where. “What are you thinking of, Mols?” Molly smiled at the sound of his voice.

“I would love waking up to a view like this.” Molly sighed opening her eyes to look out at the ocean and horizon.

“You would?” Lestrade lifted his eyebrow skeptically, that was perhaps the last thing he would hear her say. Not when she practically lived and breathed London.

“With you I would,” she turned to meet Lestrade’s gaze with a smile. “Yes, I would love to live with you in a cottage right here. A place just for us here on the edge of the cliffs.” Molly reached out and threaded her fingers with Greg’s on the picnic blanket.

“Does this have anything to do with what that scoundrel said this morning?” Lestrade squeezed her hand, concerned.

“No… No.” Molly shook her head looking back to the ocean, concerned about whether or not she was actually admitting the truth to herself. “This is just somewhere I could see us, a sort of paradise. A place all our own, away from everything that will ever bother us, or come between us. Away from work, obligations, sacrifices, Sherlock…” At this they both had a laugh. “I don’t know I could just picture us living here, waking up to the sound of the ocean, making our own waves like the waves crashing along the coast.” Lestrade’s heated gaze burned through her when she tore her gaze away from the ocean, with little encouragement needed, he closed the space between them and brought her face to meet his with a hand around her jaw. He slowly opened her mouth under the ministrations of his own and tasted the sea upon her lips. Yes, he could agree with her that this would paint for a very pretty picture. And when times between them, or in their family, were difficult he would think back upon this vision of hers and be at peace with his wife in his mind.

 

\---

 

The rest of the week was spent in the same manner. Exploring the cliffs in the afternoon once they could tear themselves away from the softness of their bed and each other to spend time admiring the view of the cliffs and environs. It wasn’t like Molly to be like this but with all of the interesting ways that Greg was teaching her to make love, she wasn’t exactly getting a lot of rest or being lazy. Yet there was something that was quite indulgent about allowing him to consume her all day long.

Lestrade for his part couldn’t be more thrilled with the way Molly accepted and was so receptive to everything he had to offer her. Never before, especially with Ms. Rothschilde did he have someone love what he did quite the way that Molly did. He tried everything he possibly could just to see what noises she would make. He really could just bury himself inside her and wish the world away so that he would never again have to leave the warmth to be found wrapped up in his wife.

They used the next week to shop, though this took more patience on his part to gently encourage Molly to buy something, anything she wanted. Never before did he think he would have to beg the woman he had married to spend his money. Molly simply refused. He followed her around, shop after shop, anything she touched or inspected he asked if she wanted it. Most woman would have adored this, wanting to buy one of everything in the shops but not Molly. It was so bad that he had lost her more than once as she escaped when he was talking to the shop owners to walk along the avenue. The last time she did this he couldn’t find her, and a panic gripped his chest unlike anything he felt. When he finally did find her, they had a rather pointed discussion upon a bench looking out on the sea, the cliffs and the good time they had had upon them looming in the distance. It was the first time Lestrade had ever almost yelled at Molly. He turned to her, shaking, trying to quell the anger inside him.

“Why did you run off like that Molly? Did you think it was funny? Scaring me like that, do you know how worried I was?” Lestrade scolded meeting her eyes with a hurt expression that cut Molly like a knife. He had been trying to be so nice and doting and Molly had spoiled their lovely afternoon. He stood and walked a short way down the avenue to stand upon the railing. He just didn’t understand it. This would always be a point of contention between them. Never would she willingly go into a shop and buy something for herself with his money, salary or otherwise. It was their money, really. She was a wealthy woman now. She was free to spend as she pleased but she didn’t. Not even when he saw her eye or finger something she really wanted did she ask for him to get it for her. Eventually he would buy anything she touched or eyed when they were out shopping, even after she demanded he not do that. He would simply do it without consulting her, so she only went shopping when she needed things. Their children, however, would always get anything they asked for, without question. Lestrade always suspected it was because she went for so many years during her youth without anything special and kept the books for her father. The frugality of her nature was long since a foregone conclusion and he wanted to spoil her until it no longer occurred to her to be that way. But that wasn‘t the Molly he loved.

Now however, along the English coastline, Molly came to stand next to him. She felt the tension in his body and wrung her hands nervously. She was more than a little bit guilty for her behavior. But this was just something he didn’t understand and she couldn’t explain it to him. She would not be like Rebecca Rothschilde, nor would she accustom herself to such elitist ideas as frivolous spending, even when it could be afforded. He was able to give her everything she desired and never feel the strain but she simply couldn’t do it. Everything inside her was sick at the idea of spending any kind of money at all.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, Greg, it wasn’t right of me to wander off. I just felt so trapped in those shops. You asking me every time I showed the least bit of curiosity in something if I wanted it. I’m so overwhelmed by all that you’ve done already, I couldn’t possibly have need for anything more.” Molly tried to explain herself.

“I’m not asking because you need these things Molly. You’re my wife, and I can buy you these pretty things because you want them.” Lestrade knew her nature but he still wanted her to have the best of everything, she deserved that above all else for being the person that she was, for loving him.

“I know Greg, but I love you. I don’t need baubles and frippery when I have you.” Lestrade kissed her and they stopped at a book shop at Molly‘s request, where together they did purchase books they both enjoyed for their new library. She was a most unusual woman, preferring books and new medical kits to lace, ribbons and fur, but he supposed that’s why he fell in love with her. If she wasn’t this way, then she wouldn’t be Molly. Greg did however spend the rest of the day and the week making up for his outburst, and that Molly most definitely didn’t argue with, she was too distracted moaning in pleasure to complain much about it at all.

Very rarely would the discussion of purchasing clothes or jewelry be discussed between them. However, if new dresses in all of the latest styles suddenly appeared in her closet fit for her, Molly never commented. New boots would suddenly replace her old ones. New gloves and fur lined coats would appear every winter. Maids would quickly leave hallways with her clothes in their hands, showing Lestrade that she had been mending holes. Corsets and other undergarments would be replaced when the ribbons broke. All of this would be ignored and would pass without comment. Molly had never had cause to complain but would never have complained in the first place and if it was in Lestrade‘s power to see her fitted in the finest costumes then he would do it without question. It would always be said among gossipers that Detective Inspector Lestrade would dote on his wife but she was always unwitting of it.

 

\---

 

They spent the rest of the honeymoon barely apart for more than it took for them to either change into clothes to go walking or to get out them so that they might make love more. They even bathed together, putting the copper tub to good use and luxuriating in it, loving each other in it as they washed each other. They did dine with the local barrister as promised and were the delight of all the local gentry that dined with them as well. They adored the good nature Detective Inspector and his bashful wife. They made for the loveliest newlyweds and entertained the room with exciting stories about their run in with the Great Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

It was a glorious month, and Friday night unfortunately was the night before they would leave. They left London on a Sunday and would return to their townhouse Sunday morning so that Greg could return to his duties the next day. However before they left, Lestrade had planned a special meal to celebrate, not only the end of their honeymoon but also the beginning of their life living together as man and wife. The night was bittersweet. While he was sad that all of this time for just the two of them was ending, they would be getting back to London to start their lives together. He knew Molly would be glad to see her father again and he was glad to get back to work. Sherlock was probably driving the Watson’s mad with his bored tirades.

He had the evening meal all planned and ready for Molly in the sitting room of their rooms, so that if they wanted to continue the supper in their bedroom, they could. He had been waiting for Molly for quite a while as he checked his pocket watch wondering what could have been keeping her. Just when he rose to go get her, Molly entered the parlor. She didn’t exactly look ill, but she looked more wan than she should have. They had been keeping the same company for pretty much the entire time of their courtship and now the entire week of their honeymoon they had been inseparable. He would have noticed if Molly hadn’t been feeling well. However, men don’t often notice how secretive women can be and Molly was worse than most women with that quiet way of hers. He didn’t know that there had been a problem. There didn’t seem to be as Molly took the seat he held out for her with a small but appreciative smile.

“I know you will be glad to be getting back to your father, we might go see him Sunday if you’d like.” Lestrade suggested as a maid put the dinner plates in front of them. The covers were lifted and before Greg could notice whether or not Molly liked the meal, he had ordered his wife was no where to be seen. Lestrade noticed the door to the bedroom was swung open and he could hear the sounds of someone being sick emanating from inside. He followed the noise until he reached the changing room in time to see Molly with a handkerchief covering her mouth. Molly looked to him and cried sitting on the bench in front of the vanity. Lestrade immediately came to her side and kneeled before her, her face in his hands. “Molly what’s the matter?” Molly looked to him and a fresh waves of tears fell which he wiped away.

“I’m sorry!” She finally said in between sobs. “I’ve spoiled everything.” Molly stood up dislodging herself from his grip to leave the room. Lestrade caught her by the hand before she could get away.

“No, Molly I’m sorry. I must have requested the wrong food, tell me what you want and I’ll get something else.” Lestrade suggested kissing her hand. She pulled it abruptly from his grasp, and it was like he had been burnt. She waved her hands in front of her, before covering her face again crying.

“It’s not that!” She sobbed before taking a deep breath for courage. “I’m not sure but I think I must be pregnant!” She announced wincing as if this news would somehow upset him. Greg felt dizzy with happiness, and broke out in laughter. He clapped his hands and shouted for joy before bringing Molly into his arms. His smile wouldn’t stop and he hoped this feeling wouldn’t ever stop. Never in his entire life did he believe he could feel the happiness that Molly had just given him. He kissed her everywhere, all over her face, kissed away her tears, kissed the nymph like nose he loved so much, kissed her cheeks that were forever blushing and making his heart quiver.

“You’re not mad? Isn’t it too soon? Have I ruined everything?” Molly questioned concerned for how soon into their marriage they were already expecting children. Lestrade simply laughed at her and kissed her some more.

“No my wonderful wife. This kind of blessing could never ruin anything. Oh how I love you.” Lestrade’s eyes misted over as he looked down at her when her happiness finally matched his own. He kissed her soundly and then kissed his way down until he could kiss all along her abdomen where he would see the baby soon grow. They were able to spend the rest of the meal celebrating the happy news requesting new food that wasn‘t the lobster he had ordered but something more palatable. He was happy that she ate heartily when the right food was before her. “No more lobsters!” He declared happily to anyone that would listen. Lestrade was a proud husband that night and soon he would be a very proud father.

He was the happiest man in the world and nothing could change that. Nothing. He only worried about the drive home to London the next night , which for the most part was free of any bumps or accidents, and Molly spent most of it asleep in his arms. He looked down upon her sleeping form and was filled to bursting with happiness. She had blessed him with her love and soon she would bless him with the gift of children. He was a lucky man indeed. The luckiest man in the entire world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that!! I certainly did. Love writing it. Hope you enjoyed reading it just as much! I can't wait to read the comments!!!
> 
> One of my birthday presents arrived!!! Garrow's Law!!! All about a defense lawyer in England that fights the unjust justice system, you think our system is corrupt in 'Murica? Try living in 18th century England and be committed of a crime. Our favorite Rupert Graves plays an MP!!! (insert endless squeeing here) Haven't head of it? I suggest you look up the gifs to it. I give you three words. Graves. Naked. Bathtub. I shall use this as inspirational fodder to finish our story. :D *falls back in a fangirl faint* Because it is almost over my friends!!! I'm sad to say... 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	21. Is this Wedded Bliss?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Greg find themselves wrapped up in settling into their new life. A new house, new staff, and a new routine. Everything around them is perfect... almost too perfect.
> 
> What could possibly go wrong? Famous last words...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abject pleas and apologies my dear readers. An unintended hiatus that. I didn't mean to, but this chapter just didn't want to come out, and when it did I almost wrote it entirely tonight. But here it is, a long time coming. The holidays are also to blame. I was trapped in the celebrations. And the coma apparently that followed after, but i'm back now!!! 
> 
> Oh by the way, if you're wondering about Garrow's Law, it didn't disappoint!!! Especially the Rupert Graves scenes. It was perfect. I highly recommend it! If you like that I recommend the Forsyte Saga as well, more Rupert Graves goodness!!! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 21**

**Is This Wedded Bliss?  
**

 

\---

 

_The Lestrade Residence_

_Winter, London 1891_

 

\---

 

The chill of Autumn in London would give way to the blustery cold of winter. December set in and so with it did Molly settle into her role as Mrs. Lestrade. There was a whirlwind of activity, so much so that she would have to look around to check that this wasn‘t a dream. She blamed her husband for all of this in the same breath she thanked him for it. He was the only constant, the nights he would love her and devote his time to seeing her reach new levels of ecstasy served as delightful reminders that this was all indeed real.

It was the holiday season and the house was aflutter with activity. Unpacking was done simultaneously as the house was being decorated for the season, much to the dismay of the new housekeeper. Molly had thought they had little, but apparently the house came with a small amount of furniture and the rest was filled in with purchases Lestrade himself had made, in his excitement upon their engagement. He questioned her constantly about liking the furnishings, if the house was to her taste and what he could do to make it their own but Molly could fine little to complain about, wanting for nothing. Everything to be found within the home was finer than she ever thought she would have in her life. Who would find fault with any of it? She would often wonder. From the plush tufted chairs, couches and settee in the sitting room to the luxurious bed that comforted her at night, which truly if Lestrade wasn’t there to hold her would be a cold bed indeed, and the exquisite tiffany electric lamps that made the home shine no matter the hour Molly could find nothing to question. She placated Lestrade by saying truthfully, it would slowly become inhabited by the items they would collect throughout their marriage and that was indeed true. But other than the screens she would stitch, and knitting that would always sit beside her favorite chair there was never a sign more than that in ways of the place being occupied by a lady. But Molly supposed that was simply her own doing in never being a woman consumed with the ostentations that were the ladies fashion. Lestrade himself had the perfect taste to compliment her own, as any English gentleman would. So indeed she found very little to want, and before she would think of anything it would be acquired as if her husband could read her mind. She never asked for anything, so it was a certain talent Lestrade would develop to prove he could see to his wife’s wants and needs.

As mistress of the house, Molly tried to apologize for all of this chaos that surrounded the new staff as best as she could, and Mrs. Weeks, the disgruntled housekeeper, was pacified but when Lestrade would walk by the elder woman would pretend that she wasn’t miffed by the chaos in the slightest. She was however frightfully attentive to Molly’s needs knowing of Molly’s delicate condition. The elder, motherly woman endeared herself to Molly and was the perfect compliment to Daniels, the head butler who though slightly younger than Lestrade was a well-seasoned employee and had been looking for a position such as this. Lestrade had in quick order hired a staff of servants - that Molly wondered if they were entirely necessary - at the same time Molly had been planning their wedding. He very patiently but efficiently interviewed each one and upon the final word from Molly at the final interview after they were married, who had very little to say upon the subject, put them in the employ of the family Lestrade. There were butlers, maids, footmen, and the kitchen staff. The staff was warm, efficient, and reliable. They were a small group, by London society standards, as this was a small home for such an elite master as the Detective Inspector but that made them all more keen to perform admirably for the family of which they were employed. They all made quick work of establishing the house as per the master’s instructions and made the house a merry place for the holidays.

The head butler and housekeeper were the positions Lestrade took pains in hiring, inviting Mr. Bramwimple upon the matter. He took the man’s recommendations to heart. They would be trusted with keys to the house, to delegate orders and handle problems within the staff. Without decent leaders to run the servant staff, it would all fall down like a house of cards. Or at least, that was how Molly understood it. They were discussing it one night as Lestrade debated over several names, explaining to Molly why he liked some and disliked others, while she laid in his lap before a roaring fire, massaging his hair and scalp until he couldn’t ignore her any longer and put it out of his mind for a few blissful hours. Lestrade and Molly would settle upon Daniels and Mrs. Weeks at last and just in time for the holidays, they now had a complete house staff, and the butler and housekeeper had the gift of employment. Employment of not only an illustrious household, it wasn’t everyday you found yourself employed by a family such as the family Lestrade, but also of such a warm master and mistress, happy couple that they were. As long as the marriage was a happy one, you could find your employment to be quite comfortable, tension made for a tense working environment. Other than the mistress’s worries over the master’s police work, the tension inside the home was very minimal. Yes the entire staff could find very little to complain about at all.

As Molly would walk around the house and smile to each of the servants, enquiring after them, getting to know them all by name, their situation and families. She found that they were all necessary and they did all have some sort of employment to carry out and that they would drop it at a moment’s notice to ask if she needed assistance. She never did, not that she would admit to it if she did need any help. They all knew that to be her way, finding they would have to anticipate her needs or else she would do for herself things that they would cringe and be reprimanded if other employers would do. They found their mistress to be of so little bother as to be disconcerting and she would go so far as to help them with their duties. It was most strange to all the servants in the house. Stranger still was the master’s indulgence of this and many other of his wife’s strange behaviors that were so different from that of women in her class.

Molly never questioned Lestrade, but she did worry over how much maintaining the staff would cost him. He promptly silenced her with a kiss and caressed her nose and brow, placating her. Molly was not used to this type of service and would never really be used to being waited on. It was not the life she led up until now. The cook and little laundress that came to the Hooper Residence were more like family than servants. It was quite a shock to be getting used to this new way. Though Lestrade never reprimanded her in front of the servants nor in private, unlike many men of his status. The household was a happier place than any household Lestrade had ever been apart or known, and that was due to Molly’s warm nature entirely. Even under the encouragement of Lestrade, demanding she make use of their servants so that they might respectfully earn their salaries, still Molly struggled with the idea of bossing her staff around. She would watch in amazement at Greg’s ease with being in the company of servants and being waited upon. Their differing backgrounds was something of a conundrum and made for an atmosphere particular only to their household and their household alone.

However, Molly refused to interfere with his ways, but the couple was an equal influence upon each other, Lestrade learning from her just as much as she learned from him. Lestrade started to talk with his servants more, made sure he listened to their needs, and kept the downstairs inviting and comfortable. He would always make sure he provided for their comfort and well-being more so then he had led to believe the master of the house should be responsible. Many of the elite believed that the staff should be lucky for food and a warm place to sleep, that they were privileged even to have employment. He started seeing the staff as people in his employ rather than the denizen of servant. Under Molly’s warm nature, he began to see that putting effort into his position as an employer improved upon the general well-being of the entire house. Any effort he gave, the family would receive back from grateful servants twice over. It made him sick to realize how little any hired staff would expect. Molly for her part befriended them all, knew each servant by name, cared for their families, and if any of the staff were ill, she, herself, would mend them. Excepting of course when she herself was expecting, Lestrade absolutely put his foot down, so she would receive reports from Mrs. Weeks about ill servants during her confinement. The servants for their part, found themselves filled with gratitude at being under the employ of this strangely, overtly generous couple, and to be employed under a roof that already held the promise of generation which equaled long term employment. They counted themselves all very lucky indeed, and would never be found gossiping about the family, ever. Excepting of course tales of the Great Sherlock Holmes, even Lestrade knew stories including Sherlock amongst the staff was free territory. That man’s strange comings and goings would be fodder for gossip too juicy to avoid for even the most loyal servant. It all made for a strange household indeed. Yet, they could hardly argue and would all serve very happily under the house of the Detective Inspector.

Surrounded by all of this establishing of the house, Lestrade encouraged Molly to decorate the nursery however herself, and it only made sense to do so while the house was being settled. Among all the other gifts he would give Molly for their first Christmas together, he gave her free reign to decorate the nursery and was witnessed by Mrs. Weeks saying that Molly had an unlimited budget to decorate with. For once however Molly agreed, no price was too small for their children with Lestrade‘s approval which she didn‘t need, though Lestrade wished Molly understood that to him, no price was too small for herself as well. Decorating the nursery, a set of rooms that would span the wing at the opposite end of the hall from their own room, was a process she loved and loathed at the same time. Molly was not one to decorate, more likely to pick out a bullet from the wall of a heart than a pattern of wallpaper for the walls of a bedroom. But picking out children’s things and fabrics for decoration was a surprising pleasure, and with Aunt Evelyn and Mary by her side, was a delight. She would do it for her child, if not for herself. While the women were happy to make choices, Molly would never make the decision without Lestrade’s approval. Both women told her not to, men don’t have opinions in these matters and they can’t visualize how it will look, they said, but Molly would not spend a farthing without Lestrade knowing what she would purchase. It was perhaps because they had only been married a month and she was still becoming used to the idea of being a lady of circumstance, but Molly would not spend money haphazardly before and she certainly would not do so even when it was within her power. Mr. Bramwimple thought Lestrade a very tolerant husband, or at the very least a very lovestruck one, for entertaining Molly coming in and out of his study, while he was busy with police business or estate matters, to make inquiries into what she was doing for the nursery. Lestrade would look at it all, smile and proudly approve of Molly’s choices. The poor stewart would then look away pretending not to notice as they openly displayed their love for one another and Lestrade would send her away again, or she would stay upon his word and sit on the couch before the fire and read, forever distracting his employer as Lestrade loved to stare upon Molly when he knew she wasn‘t looking, staring until they finished their business.

Upon hearing the news that Molly was expecting, the two woman clapped and exclaimed with happiness upon the news, Mary and John had already been several months along with an addition of their own. John and Dr. Hooper were not quite that enthusiastic but congratulated Lestrade on the quickness of his ability to make Molly with child. Though that part of their congratulations was spoken of in Lestrade’s study over brandy after dinner, and thankfully not in front of the man’s wife. Even in the middle of settling into the new place, Molly and Lestrade found themselves at the mercy of their relatives being newlyweds that just returned from a month long honeymoon and with news of their little family growing.

Dr. Hooper was a frequent visitor, grumbling over his new housekeeper and maid making a mess of his comfortable home and habits. Lestrade had explained to Mrs. Morris and Ginny that while they were to see to Dr. Hooper’s care and comfort, under no circumstances were they to interfere with his labs. So Lestrade had no idea as to why his father-in-law was grumbling over their presence. They would never go down there to the dungeons as they were known, afraid of what they would find down there on the slabs. It was ghoulish work but they appreciated the doctor’s help in solving murders with the police. Dr. Hooper however, resented their interference with his daily routine. Molly and Lestrade, when they inquired as to what made the change so difficult only heard grumbles of frustration in reply. Upon further talks with his father-in-law, Lestrade surmised that there was a minor flirtation between his dad and Mrs. Morris taking place, and that the caring woman sought to curb the doctors soothing, but rather unhealthy habits of smoking and imbibing on one too many brandies in the evening. When told this during the week before Christmas, Molly laughed, glad that her father’s life was anything but dull in her absence from her old home. This new place was quickly becoming her own, and she was glad that she wouldn’t be so thoroughly missed.

Yes everything was turning out to be absolutely perfect. All this plus, Molly admired her own form in its changing ways, her stomach was showing the barest of signs, but it was enough for both herself and Lestrade to delight in it. Mercifully her morning sickness was minimal, and only came about when confronted by smells or foods that made her queasy. The problem was knowing what those foods were. She often ran from meals crying, trying to fight the urge to be ill, knowing that she was limiting the foods that Lestrade could enjoy. Cigars and the smell of its smoke were absolutely out of the question, and Lestrade himself forbade them from the house now that there would be children and knowing they made Molly ill. Her hardworking husband’s every comfort should be her first priority, and her condition was getting in the way of that. No matter the assurances Lestrade gave, and they were many, frequent, sensual assurances, she still felt like a burden for him to carry through the rest of his life. Meanwhile, Lestrade made sure every favorite food of Molly’s, and gentler more palatable foods were made available, her every comfort was his most important priority.

So all in all, during this evening so close to Christmas, she found herself quite comfortably situated in their private sitting room, on the couch seated in her husband’s warm embrace. While Molly tried to concentrate on the screen she was cross-stitching, a subtle rose and violet wreath that almost obscured a ribcage and anatomically correct heart. It would take someone like Sherlock to notice it, but it was subtle enough that no one would think it untoward or morbid. Lestrade admired her skill with a needle, unsurprising with how delicately she worked with a cadaver. If he was making every effort to distract her from her task - threading his fingers through her hair, which in the privacy of their sitting room she was wearing down in a tantalizing waterfall down her shoulder, kissing her neck, and nibbling on her earlobe - Molly made no mention of it and continued quite diligently to pay attention to her work, moans, whimpers, and shivers aside.

Lestrade assumed that he would get to have a nice night-in with the wife, but that was not to be the case as the Yard whistles reached their peak out front of their door. Lestrade growled in frustration and Molly looked to Lestrade worried, quickly arranged herself to be appropriately seated across from her husband instead of practically in his lap. She quickly swept her hair up in the forgotten pin into a quick bun which would have to do. Molly followed his gaze to her hair with something akin to regret. Once they were both decent, Daniels came into the room. “Lieutenant Jones, sir.” He barely got out before the Yarder burst into the sitting room.

“Jonesy, where’s the fire?” Lestrade demanded in a stern voice, he told them to come get him at any time but he wasn’t having this barging around.

“Murder sir, Harcourt Street. They asked for you specifically sir.” Jonesy breathed trying to catch his breath.

“Well go on then, Detective Inspector, there’s murder afoot.” Molly encouraged when Greg looked regretfully to her, he just wanted for once to enjoy an evening without having to rush off at a moment’s notice.

“Will you be alright?” Lestrade questioned, softly to her, taking her hands, allowing his knuckles to subtly caress where their child was growing. No one would know other than herself, he touched her abdomen almost constantly, it was a remarkable time for them both truly. However with all of this growing of children, the further along she became in the pregnancy the less he was comfortable being away from Molly. Molly rolled her eyes to herself, thinking that they weren’t even into a whole month of the pregnancy, she could only imagine what he would be like when her stomach was the size of a watermelon.

“Of course I will be, now go!” Molly encouraged, laughing against his lips as he kissed her goodbye. Daniels was waiting with his coat, scarf and bowler hat.

“Don’t wait up for me.” Lestrade admonished with a grumble, knowing that she needed her rest, as he turned to leave.

“Don’t worry, I will!” Molly teased to his retreating form. She ran over to the window and watched through the swimming, wavering glass and looked to see Lestrade get into the Yard carriage, continuing to watch as it drove off down the London street.

Molly returned to her work, and heaved a sigh, feeling the loss of her husband. But his duties to the city came first, no matter how much both of them liked to pretend otherwise. Daniels waited in the doorway, watching the mistress at her work just to make sure she was okay. Her condition worried him almost as much as it worried the master. But then again, in their mystification at the female’s pregnant condition, men were always worried. “May I get you anything, ma’am?” He inquired.

“No Daniels thank you, I’m fine. If I need anything I will ring.” Molly smiled to him and she watched the butler take his leave. There was nothing she needed, except her husband. But her husband was off being the detective inspector. She allowed the occupation in front of her keep her occupied, so that she might not dwell on Greg’s absence and what he might be doing.

The next few hours she spent alone, the clock now nearing eleven. She was startled from her activity, noticing how far along she had gotten, the pieced now better than two thirds finished. There was a commotion at their door. Molly knew it couldn’t be anyone from Scotland Yard, and he father wouldn’t create the great cacophony that she heard echo from the hallway up the stairs. This only meant that there was someone there that was unwanted. If it was some homeless person, she knew the staff would see to it. But as the commotion became greater, so did her curiosity. She came to stand before the door, and almost ran into Daniels who looked far beyond flustered. He looked almost distraught and seemed to be struggling with what to do, Molly worried what might be wrong as her hand went to her stomach. “What is it, Daniels?” Molly questioned in a firm, authoritative voice she hadn’t known herself capable of, if there was something direly wrong she’d rather have the man come out with it, instead of worrying over how his mistress would react to the news. Daniels immediately straightened and she realized he needed direction only an employer could provide.

“I’m sorry to have to disturb you like this ma’am, but there is a man at the door that is trying to force his way into the house to see you. Philip and Sam have held him off so far but he’s proving to be a challenge. We’ve been told by Master Lestrade that under no circumstances was this man to enter the house without the master present and absolutely was he not to talk to you at all. But now that he’s here, he won’t leave the premises and refuses to follow the direction we gave him as to the master’s whereabouts.” Daniels explained wringing his gloved hands nervously.

“Who is the man?” Molly questioned once she sat down again, relief that it wasn’t anything wrong with Greg flooded through her and made her knees weak. Daniels crossed the room and pulled the card out of his jacket pocket. The name, written in gold leaf, blazed from the linen card and seemed to burn in her fingers so much so that she dropped the card. Daniels dutifully picked up the card, the knowledge of this man from the master was not good and saw that his mistress’s shock at seeing merely his name was testament to what the man was to the family. He held it out in his open palm for her to take again. She did, but this time she rose and stood before the fire, flicking the card into it. It gave a great hiss as the flames angrily tore into the audacious card. Molly turned around to face Daniels who merely regarded her with a raised eyebrow in question unsure of what to do next.

“Shall I excuse him, ma’am?” Daniels offered, trying to follow his masters orders but not undermine the mistress’s authority. He really didn’t want to have to go back downstairs where that terrible man was, but if his mistress needed protecting he would do it.

“No.” Molly shook her head looking off to nowhere. “You’re going to let him in.” Molly looked Daniels in the eye, and he noted the determination in her gaze, she wasn’t afraid of this man anymore, she had nothing to fear. She was with Greg now, had his very evidentiary love, and they were expecting their first child. And nothing Maxwell Lestrade had to say to her could steal her happiness away. “Send your quickest man immediately to go get my husband, I believe he went in the direction of Harcourt Street, and explain the situation. Have the man tell him to come home immediately, I need him. Once I’m in the room and settled, you’re going to show him into the formal sitting room. Once he’s in the room, you’re going to remain there. No matter what he says, you’re employed by me, you follow my directions. Not his. No matter how much he yells at you.” Molly intimated with the firm set of her jaw.

“Absolutely ma’am, I follow no one else’s orders but your’s and the master’s.” Daniels nodded encouragingly.

“Good. No matter what he says to me, don’t react. But if he tries to get physical of course I’m relying on you to protect me until the master returns.” Molly smiled up to Daniels.

“Of course ma’am! I wouldn’t dream of letting anything happen to you.” Daniels looked to the mistress, horrified at the idea that this man could potentially prove to be such a danger to his mistress. He wouldn’t let this man even think it.

Molly took a breath bracing herself. “Very good. Glad we understand each other. Now lets get this ordeal over with.” Molly squared her shoulders walking out of the room, her butler hot on her heels. He helped her down the stairs and Mrs. Weeks took over getting her settled into the sitting room, while Daniels sent the kitchen boy to run for the master. Once that was done, the commotion in the hall growing to its loudest, he nodded to the housekeeper, who nodded in return that their mistress was ready for this unwanted guest.

 

\---

 

The boy that had been sent came upon the chaos of the crime scene and immediately went in search of his master. The police made a barrier of bodies around the perimeter and were blocking anyone from seeing the area nearer the house where the crime took place. This made it very difficult for the boy to attend to his duty. When he tried to push through the throng, he was stopped by the Yarders causing the men to create a ruckus.

“I must see my master!! It’s important!! Please!!” The boy cried reaching out towards the crime scene while the men tried to keep him back barking for him to go away. It was then that Lestrade came down the steps from the mansion where the crime took place, John and Sherlock following deep into the discussion of the details so far gathered for the case. Lestrade tried to follow their thoughts but was distracted by the noises coming from his men. Sherlock and John had gathered all they could for the night and were on their way home. “Master Lestrade!!!” Upon hearing his name spoken in a familiar voice, Lestrade looked up to see one of his kitchen boys struggling to come get him.

“Oi! Stop manhandling that boy and let him through!” Lestrade barked at his men in a growl. He’d have to speak to his division about making sure that news from his home actually made it to him. The boy came running over as if everything within depended upon it. “Freddy! What is it? Is it Mrs. Lestrade?” Greg felt his spine go cold. At hearing this both Sherlock and John came up behind Lestrade and listened in on the conversation between master and the boy.

“Trouble at the house, sir. Daniels sent me. Your brother came and instead of sending him away, the missus has let him in and is talking to him now sir. She said to send for you right away. There’s not a moment to lose sir.” The boy was gathering his breath, gauging his master’s reaction to the news. It wasn’t good as Lestrade’s brow clouded over with thunder and his body began to shake with unrestricted anger. He knew it. He knew leaving Molly alone tonight was a horrible idea.

John and Sherlock came up behind man, John put a bracing hand on Lestrade’s shoulder. They all knew this might have been coming, his brother was not the sort of man who liked receiving the silent treatment.

“Shall we go get my brother, John?” Sherlock suggested.

“Yeah we might do.” John agreed, eager for giving Lestrade’s brother his just desserts. They knew what Mycroft had done, sent the brother a note, and now the brother trespassed upon their friend. It was time for action, and John’s face was dangerously eager.

“We’ll get Mycroft and meet you back at your place Lestrade. I’m sure your team can handle things from here.” Sherlock assured pushing the man into action. He needed to get home and soon before his brother could cause any more damage than he probably was in that moment.

 

\---

 

The oppressively large man was shown into the sitting room, Molly was trying to belie her nerves by appearing to be reading, she was however anything but calm. She had no idea what this man’s intensions were in showing himself where he was clearly not welcome. Maybe it was the fact that neither Lestrade nor herself had responded to his harsh invectives that were to be found in his response to the invitation. He had no idea how little they valued his “good” opinion. He walked into the room as if he owned the place, his stature commanding the attention of the room with practiced airs, even though there was no one in the room who wanted his attention. If Molly hadn’t been threatened by the man she would have thought his commanding stature combined with his owlish appearance would be quite funny. The man noted that Molly did not rise to meet him, and she watched as his eyes roamed unwarranted over her blossoming form. Molly’s back straightened ever so slightly under his scrutiny.

“Mr. Maxwell Lestrade the Second, I presume. I don’t believe you and I are acquainted. I am Mrs. Molly Lestrade, your brother’ wife.” Molly could no longer stand the silence that prevailed between them, it was like a game of chess, and she impatiently made the first move.

“I’m well aware of who you are, Miss. Hooper. I merely wanted to observe the sham of a situation in which you have forced my estranged relation into.” Maxwell Lestrade, paced across the room and back, taking in the warm, homey surroundings with a scoff. They were far below his standard. “I can see I was entirely right in my summation of how your unfortunate association would ruin him.” Maxwell puffed around before her. “If he had stuck by Ms. Rothschile’s side he wouldn’t be in such unfortunate living conditions, he would have been comfortable where he was.” Finally, she could take no more of his pacing.

“Please take a seat, sir. I assure you the furniture is quite comfortable and was selected entirely by your brother.” Molly offered him a seat graciously. This pacified the man enough to encourage him to sit down and he did so with a great flop. Molly only prayed the furniture would survive his imposing ways.

“So you are the bitch that my brother has decided to marry so that he might copulate with you.” The man grumbled, only realizing that Daniels had stayed in the room when he stepped forward to defend the lady’s honor. No one would dare talk to his mistress like that under her own roof. Molly stayed him with a hand. She had expected much worse than this.

“I was happily married to your brother in mid November, I’m only sorry you couldn’t be there, though from your letter I was aware you had no desire to attend.” Molly tried to cover his insult with conversation. “And I will remind you that I’m no longer Miss. Hooper, its Mrs. Lestrade now.”

“You may go boy, you’re no longer needed.” Maxwell attempted to dismiss Daniels with a derisive wave of his hand, ignoring Molly‘s assertion that the wedding was a foregone conclusion, she was with child, his brother was happy and there was nothing he could do to part them. When the butler didn’t move, Maxwell immediately jumped to being irate, taking his anger out upon the poor butler. “DID YOU NOT HEAR ME YOU FOOL! GET OUT!!” The walls shook from his shouts.

“He will only listen to my orders, sir, and I would kindly ask you not to speak to my staff in that manner while you are under my roof or I will have you removed.” Molly said in a firm but muted voice. The quiet, calm of her voice after Maxwell’s bellows were a startling contrast.

“You?! You will have ME removed?! You can do no such thing you little upstart, you’re more one of them than you could ever be considered equal to that estranged relation that was formerly my brother!!!” Maxwell gave Molly an incredulous look, shocked that she would talk to him so.

“That may be, sir, but your brother chose me. He pursued me. We are in love and happy and we have no need of your opinion. I wonder at why you thought to come down here to make your presence known if indeed he is estranged to you as he informed me.” Molly looked to the man in wonder. The audacity of him coming in all of his state to insult her to her face, as if written words hadn’t been enough. Maxwell continued, ignoring what she said completely, as if the words she spoke were of no consequence because she was so completely below his notice.

“And I suppose he found you to be somewhat attractive. No accounting for taste on any account. I fail to see the appeal but to each his own. He must like you enough I suppose, since he has plowed your fields by the looks of it.” His gaze roamed over her form suggestively, and it made her skin crawl, as if he had every right to like you would a common whore on the street.

“I would ask you sir not to look at me in such a way, not to take such liberties.” Molly said firmly, hand going to her stomach on instinct. The glint from her engagement and wedding rings caught his eye, Maxwell finally noticed that his mother’s ring was on Molly’s finger.

“Take that off!” He shouting rising from his seat in surprise.

“Take what off?” Molly questioned backing into the cushion of the chair, there was no where to go. He strode over towards here with intent, and Daniels stepped behind his mistress just incase.

“TAKE MY SAINTED MOTHER’S RING OFF YOUR GRUBBY SOCIAL CLIMBER’S FINGERS, YOU BASE, MOUSEY SLUT!” Maxwell made a reach for her hand, causing Molly to scream. Daniels made to step between them but stopped when he saw who walked into the sitting room.

“Step back from my wife, now.” Lestrade’s familiar grumble cut through the chaos. Molly looked to him in relief. Although when she noted the look in his eye she felt her entire body shake.

“How dare you speak to your elder brother that way, Gregory Reginald.” Maxwell turned around to face his younger brother, putting his monocle back his eye socket, which had popped out when he saw Molly wearing his mother’s ring.

“How dare you speak to my wife the way you did?! No one speaks to my Molly that way. I should take you up on charges for harassment. I have a few favors owed, I could have you locked up indefinitely.” Lestrade threatened. His hands refused to be still, clenching and relaxing in anger.

“You wouldn’t dare. I only came to see what this little bitch has done to you. And I can see what a grave mistake you’ve made that I will have to clean up, AGAIN!” Maxwell turned to make a grab at Molly again. That was when Lestrade lost whatever patience he had been holding onto.

“ALRIGHT, THAT’S IT OUT WITH YOU!!” Lestrade growled, twisting Maxwell’s arm behind his back and shoving him into the door jamb. “Daniels take Mrs. Lestrade to the study.” He instructed in a barely restrained rumble before shoving Maxwell into the hallway. Maxwell groaned and shouted in protest of being man handled. He didn’t notice that once they left the room, Molly went all the way upstairs. Daniels watched her go with a sympathetic eye. It wasn’t right for her to sit there and take all that abuse like she did. She was a brave woman, his mistress.

“I’ll have her Gregory, I’ll get that bitch. I swear it. You’ll regret going against my word little brother. I’ll make you suffer, I always have and I will again. I‘ll get rid of this slutty smudge on our family‘s name and your bastard issue too!!” The man ranted, in his anger Lestrade threw him onto the floor. He broke a vase of flowers for all the trouble he caused.

“You come anywhere near my wife, my family and I will end you, once and for all. Stay out of my life. I mean it. I’m not afraid of you anymore, Maxwell. You do anything to her, and you’ll regret it. And it won’t be me, oh no. I won’t have to do a thing. Though I’d like to, I’ve got friends that wouldn’t dare let me sully my hands with trash like you, but they’d be more than happy to do it for me. I’m sure Mycroft, Sherlock and John would love to speak to you about it. I’ve got a pregnant wife to see to. It’s been awful seeing you Maxwell, now GET OUT!” Lestrade picked up his unyielding brother, and threw him out of the house.

When he turned back around he saw Daniels and Mrs. Weeks staring at him, both with worried expressions. He took a breath, fists on his hips, trying to regain his composure.

“Well you both had better explain yourselves! I told you not to let that man into this house without my being here and you disobeyed me.” Lestrade looked to both his head butler and housekeeper and they both looked to each other. Daniels stepped forward to explain.

“We were sir and did. But the mistress wanted to speak to him, seemed determined to do it sir and she sent for you before she did anything else sir. She had me stay with her the entire time. She was by no means unprotected. I wouldn’t allow it, even if she asked it of me.” Daniels stood erect with his shoulders squared, he had no reason to feel chastised. He did as he was told. At this explanation, Greg raised his eyebrows knowing he couldn’t argue with what he had been told. He looked around at the mess Maxwell had made, pictures were knocked askew and the vase was on the floor, water and flowers everywhere.

“I’ll see to the vase, sir.” Mrs. Weeks assured her master that she’d see to everything.

“Good. Good. I had best see to Mrs. Lestrade then.” Greg walked in the direction of the study when Daniels cleared his throat. Lestrade looked back to the butler impatiently. “What is it, Daniels? Mrs. Lestrade needs me.”

“I know sir. She’s not in the study, she ran upstairs.” Daniels pointed in the direction of the master suite and Lestrade looked up in the direction, his feet following his heart towards where Molly was. He gave them no further consequence and they looked after him before meeting eyes with one another. The whole staff hoped that everything would be fine after tonight’s chaos.

The man tumbled down the stairs and landed on the London sidewalk in a heap. He was then unceremoniously picked up and put into a carriage that was not his own by a couple of burly, intimidating men. The carriage drove off and Maxwell Lestrade found himself facing the Holmes boys and sitting next to one barely restrained John Watson, who was really a guard dog when it came to his friends, and was he ready to bite. Mycroft’s lips were in a permanent purse, all the sign there was of the anger that rolled itself around in his chest. Sherlock gave the man that familiar laser trained deducing stare he would give any man that threatened Molly or Mrs. Hudson, worse yet because Molly was pregnant and he still threatened her.

“I believe I warned you, Mr. Lestrade, of what would happened if you showed yourself here. Did I not, Sherlock? John?” At their confirming nod, Mycroft continued. “And now that you have, and did a great deal to upset our dear Molly, you will pay the consequences.” Mycroft leveled the man with a stare. If only it worked on him.

“Now see here!” Maxwell objected to this kind of man-handling.

“Shut it!” John shouted, pulling his gun on the man. Maxwell was immediately still and silent. John loaded the gun and pressed it further into Maxwell’s temple.

“Thank you, John. Now as much as I would enjoy seeing Dr. Watson put a bullet in your temple, I see no reason for him to commit murder on such a waste of a person. Sherlock and I have different plans for you, don’t we?” Mycroft looked to his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh yes, brother dear. Very different plans.” Sherlock’s baritone dropped an octave in anger. He was more than ready to begin the process of bringing this man to heel. It was about time someone did. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely. Let’s begin.” The carriage could be seen from the streets rocking back and forth, horrified screaming issuing forth from the carriage. No one from the Yard would stop it, and no one frankly cared what happened in that carriage that night. But Maxwell Lestrade would never be heard from again. He never entered society and was never known to leave the confines of his mansion until the day that the world was fortunate to lose his presence for good.

 

\---

 

Greg found Molly curled up on the settee. His heart was sore at the sight, she looked so small laying there in tears. He was so angry with his brother, with himself. He should have known better than to leave her alone, without at least a couple Yarders standing by. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again. It was his job to protect her and he failed. He blamed himself more than he blamed anyone else. She looked to the door and startled at his presence. She sat up with a gasp, unprepared for him to enter. She tried to take a shaky, albeit sobbing, breath to calm herself, but began to cry anew. She feared what he would say, once he got here. Now there they were, and all she wanted was his touch.

“I’m sorry!” She sobbed, hand going to her stomach. “I didn’t know- I didn’t know what he’d be like.” Molly cried, her eyes pleading for him to forgive her for going against his wishes. He had done so much for her, listening to his wishes seemed like the least she could do. “I should have listened to what you wanted. I’ve taken so much away from you and I couldn’t do one simple thing that you asked. I am all those things he says-”

“Don’t.” Lestrade stopped her with a tight voice. She did with a sob. He could stand it no more and came across the room. He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He set her down by the bed and promptly kissed her, wiping her tears away. It took a while but finally she stopped crying, When it seemed that she had no more tears to cry, he kissed her nose and eyes. Greg held her head in his hands and met her eyes. “Molly, I love you.”

“I love you.” Molly whimpered, ready to cry anew. Blasted hormones.

“And you are my wife, I married you. I don’t want anyone else, I’ve had the lady of the hour, and I regretted it. It was a torment of my life and now I’m with you and I’ve never been happier. You’re perfect. You’re my Mols. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you from him. Nothing he said applies to you at all. He just wants us to suffer to make himself happy. You aren’t to let him. You’re beautiful and wonderful. My wife. And I’m going to love you everyday until you believe me.” Lestrade sealed his promise with a kiss. If he couldn’t convince her with his words, his actions would more than prove it. He made short work of removing the clothes that separated her naked, blossoming beauty from his eyes. He stayed completely clothed, while she was stark naked and flushed with pleasure. It was by far one of the most erotic moments of her life. She felt completely exposed, and Lestrade was making a meal o her. Molly thread her fingers through his hear and pulled on the silver strands causing him to growl. This brought her to completion with a shout. He held onto her body, his lovely, blunt fingertips digging deliciously into her flesh, grounding her. Once Molly stopped shaking and her moans were a whimper, he lowered her onto the bed, kissing her again as he pulled the covers around her. Molly was so thoroughly spent she could barely keep her eyes open. Lestrade made to go back down stairs but Molly’s hand on his stopped him.

“Please, Greg, don‘t go.” She couldn’t explain it, but she felt like if she was apart from him tonight, it would rip her apart. She needed him tonight. Greg was going to just go downstairs and make sure the house was alright but that could wait until the morning. He smiled and with a nod quickly stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed. He immediately brought Molly into his embrace and she slotted herself against him, perfect for each other. Once Molly felt the warmth of his embrace, she immediately relaxed. Molly was asleep instantly and Lestrade watched her sleeping form in the moonlight, vowing to himself to protect her. It was a while before sleep finally found him, but he never let go of her that night even in the deepest sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is folks the 21st chapter, and with it the crushing realization that we're almost done with this story. *gulp*
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the dramatics there. It was indeed interesting to write. For the first time I think I nailed the dialogue.
> 
> Comments and kudos are the bread and butter of the authors here, please be generous, don't be shy. It is much appreciated.


	22. Introductions & Generations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all that excitement over his brother, far too much excitement for an expectant mother in his opinion, Lestrade was hoping they would have some peace. Until an unexpected visitor appears upon their doorstep. 
> 
> What else could possibly happen? Wait and see...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe i'm going to do this everyone but I have another chapter to post and I just posted the other one the night before!!! But I can't seem to stop now that we're reaching the end... the rest of the story is just coming so naturally. It seems silly to stop the inevitable. Before I knew it, there was another chapter!
> 
> So now its here for you all to enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 22**

**Introductions & Generations  
**

 

\---

 

_The Lestrade Residence_

_Winter, London 1891_

 

\---

The next morning, the couple woke as if they had been through a bad dream. It was as if they had been in a fairy tale and had slept for years to awake to a new world. Lestrade didn’t say a word, merely kissed her. He didn’t know how to recover from the damage Maxwell wrought the night before. He loved her, quite thoroughly and proved how much he loved her but didn’t know how Molly would feel this morning. He would let her mood be his guide. Molly smiled blissfully and kissed him back. Lestrade let out such a sigh of relief that they were both overcome with laughter. He was so elated that no matter what happened his brother couldn’t spoil their happiness. Once the laughter died, Molly made to climb out of the bed.

“Shall I ring for some breakfast? For once, I’m rather hungry this morning.” Molly was immediately pulled back down until she was underneath Lestrade again. She let out a yelp in surprise, then she caught the look in Greg’s eye.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lestrade.” Greg caressed her jaw line with his thumb, kissing her once again. This time he opened up her mouth beneath his, asserting his love. Though Molly gave little resistance. He ran his hand along her curves and their hands joined where their child was growing. Molly pulled away to look into his eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Lestrade.” Molly smiled up at him, tears pricking the corners of her eyes even though she felt so happy.

“I love you.” Lestrade whispered. And if his words weren’t enough to convince her of that, then his eyes, dark and sparkling with feeling, were enough to win her over.

“I love you too.” Molly gave a wet chuckle, rising again. This time Greg let her go, lazing in bed. Watching her naked curves with pleasure, while she set about cleaning up his things on the floor of the bedroom.

“You know I hired servants so you wouldn’t have to do that.” Lestrade chuckled as she moved about the room. She would clean up after him and herself.

“I know but I just don’t think they should have to pick up our clothes off the floor. They already work so hard, they shouldn’t have clean up all of this. They’d know what we were up to last night.” Molly scolded with a blush. Lestrade chuckled at her silliness.

“I should hope so, its quite obvious what we’re up to at night considering how you’ve been increasing.” He noted, sending a sensual look in her direction. Molly returned his heated gaze and then put on her robe. “Oi! I was admiring the view!” Lestrade protested. At his protest, Molly simply gave him a coquettish glance and went to ring the bell. Now that his lovely view was spoiled, Lestrade rose and set about getting ready for the day. There wasn’t much to be done about the case he was at last night, until Sherlock told him where to go. So for the moment he would enjoy his time with Molly before he was forced to gallop about again.

They enjoyed a lovely breakfast, and Molly for once since getting pregnant ate heartily, much to the delight of Lestrade. They were laughing over coffee when Daniels knocked. Lestrade looked to Daniels with a curious brow. “Yes Daniels, something the matter?” Lestrade questioned. Molly looked to Greg worriedly. Not again.

“There is a lady downstairs sir, says that she must see you but she wouldn’t give me her name. She looked to be a poor woman sir, but a lady. I didn’t know what to do so she is seated in the sitting room. I wonder if she might be looking for protection.” Lestrade stood immediately and went to change. “Go down, Daniels and make sure she’s comfortable, bring her some tea. I shall follow you down in a moment.” He went to change and Molly rose herself to change as well.

“I’ll be down as well Daniels. Please send for Annie.” Molly announced going into the bedroom as well. Daniels bowed uncertainly, going to do as he instructed. Though he was unsure if he should.

“You don’t have to Molly. Stay up here for a little bit longer, this won’t take long.” Lestrade smiled, trying to get her to not over exert herself.

“I would like to anyway, Greg. She might need a woman’s shoulder. Besides if there’s someone that needs your protection, I’d be glad to be there to help you… this being our home.” Molly gave him a shy smile, sitting before her vanity as she began to brush her hair. Greg came up behind her and kissed her neck.

“Very well. I shall wait for you then.” The two continued to get dressed. Then they descended the stairs together and came to the sitting room.

They came into the sitting room to see a woman that seemed drawn and sallow, almost ill. Her eyes were wide and seemed to constantly be in a state of fright. Indeed she looked like she expected a monster to walk into the house at any moment. She immediately gained Molly’s sympathy though Molly didn’t know her at all. Molly noticed at first how poor the woman looked, her clothes no better than rags, mended almost until they were beyond repair.

“I am Detective Inspector Lestrade, my butler explained that you needed my help. Miss…” Lestrade wished he knew the woman’s name as he introduced himself. He took the woman’s hand but she was a delicate thing, he was afraid he might break her.

“Oh dear, you don’t know me, yet I know you Gregory. I’ve seen your portrait in the manor. It still hangs where it was placed originally. I am Margaret Lestrade, your sister-in-law.” Lestrade tried but his mouth popped open, shocked to see his brother’s wife after seeing his brother the night before. He had never met the woman before, she was always mysteriously kept hidden from view of society when he was with Rebecca. And it was no wonder, it seemed to him that she wilted under the harsh influence of his brother. He watched her turn her gaze upon his wife. He couldn’t help his immediate reaction as his arm came protectively around his wife. “You must be the infamous Mrs. Molly Lestrade. My husband and Ms. Rothschilde were entirely wrong about you dear, you are quite beautiful. Quiet but sweet and true. I can see why he likes you. My congratulations to you both.” Margaret gave a weak smile, but still shrunk in on herself with the effort.

“I appreciate the kind words, but why are you here?” Lestrade questioned losing patience with the woman. Any connection at all to his brother drove him wild inside with anger.

“Greg!” Molly scolded putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, dear, but after last night this is too much!” Greg went to the sideboard to pour a much needed shot of whiskey. And it was only the morning.

“I am sorry- I shouldn’t have come. I was just hoping perhaps I could ask… No it is too much of an imposition.” Margaret made to get up, weak and stumbling, her large eyes glassy with tears. Molly came her side and sat her back down.

“It’s alright. You’re safe here. Why did you come here?” Molly questioned wrapping Margaret up in a warm embrace. The woman leaned into it as if all of her strength were gone. Molly gave Lestrade a worried glance. They shared a look, more of Maxwell Lestrade’s tyrannical destruction. He knew that their marriage wasn’t a happy one, as evidenced by his affair with Lestrade’s own former wife during and after their engagement. But he had absolutely no idea it looked so awful. The poor woman looked around as if she was struggling now to speak, probably wondering whether or not she should trust in their protection. “I promise you whatever it is, no matter what, we’ll do whatever we can for you.” Molly put her hands on top of Margaret’s own but pulled back, startled. Margaret smiled to her in understanding, showing them her crooked and misshapen left hand.

“It doesn’t hurt, except in cold weather, and the manor is always so cold even in summer. I hadn’t taken the trouble of polishing my wedding ring. This was years ago… And my husband took notice, in our fight he broke my fingers. He said that this is what happens to wives who don’t show their loyalty to their husband. The boys weren’t born yet. He wouldn’t send for a doctor or surgeon. The cook did what she could but they healed like this. I can’t do anything but some writing, sewing and needlework, being right-handed. But I used to play the piano, I was quite proficient. It was what first drew him to me. I can’t even play a simple country tune now.” Margaret began sobbing, holding her gnarled hand to her chest. Lestrade shook with anger, so that was why she was hidden from view. No one would know of his abuse if the woman was never seen in public. She looked to him pleading. “Please! I know I have no right to ask this of you, and I have no right to even come here. I know he was here last night, and I traveled here using all the money I had to travel by coach. I had no where else to turn to where I might find a sympathetic ear. I don’t know where to live, what to do. But I couldn’t- Please you must understand. I couldn’t live with him anymore. I was so filled with hope when I learned of your marriage, that you were marrying despite his going against it. I clung to that hope and it brought me here. I- please I-” Molly comforted her the best she could, soothing the woman with kind words but knew that the assurance she would need would have to come from Greg. She looked to her husband and he nodded. Greg came before his sister-in-law and took both her hands in his own. She looked up to him as if she were a child. Lestrade’s heart went out to her. A relation of his own family, and she had been so mistreated. When he took her hands, she looked to him as if he were an angel sent down to her and kissed his hand as you would a merciful king that had saved you from ruin.

“It’s alright Margaret you’re safe here in the bosom of your family, you may stay here with us as long as you like and if it what you want, I will look for apartments for you. You won’t be on the streets I can promise you that.” Greg gave her a warm smile and she sighed or rather sobbed in relief leaning heavily upon Molly’s shoulder. Molly rocked her and suggested that she might go upstairs to get some sleep. Lestrade announced he would also bring Dr. Watson around to see to her after she had rested a bit. She nodded as she ascended the stairs leaning upon Daniels for support.

Later that evening, John did come. He was in the guest room for quite a while and once he came out, his face was clouded over with anger. Everything that happened to her went against everything he stood for both as a doctor and as a gentleman. Treating women poorly in any fashion was absolutely unforgivable. He explained that the woman was in a poor way, malnourished and exhausted at the best. If she had continued in that manor, he told them she probably would have died from pneumonia. She was very week and abused, one of the worst cases of such treatment John himself had ever been privy to and it angered him. When Molly inquired after her hand, John shook his head. That angered him the most. Most men didn’t like to have evidence of their abuse. To do that to her and then continue his abuses, even prevent her from being in society. He couldn’t believe that of any man other than Maxwell Lestrade. Unfortunately there was nothing to be done for it without some very painful surgeries that he knew she wouldn’t survive. It wasn’t to be attempted. But there was hope that the rest of her life would be comfortable and relieved of Maxwell Lestrade forever, when John told them that the bastard wouldn’t dare step anywhere in the direction of London again. He made casual mention of what he and the Holmes brothers did to him. When Lestrade asked him what, he merely doffed his hat and told them to have a pleasant evening, excusing himself. Lestrade laughed at his friend but became serious when he noted that Molly stood by the window and saw her serious gaze in the glass’s reflection. She was very troubled, he could feel she was upset about Margaret. There was nothing to be done for it now other than give the rest of her life what comfort they could.

He came up behind her and brought her into his arms, not a breath of air between them. His hands covered her growing womb, her hands covered his. “Don’t be upset my Molly mouse. She’ll be fine now, she’s with us. People that will care for her, her well being.” Molly cried silently. When he heard her little whimpers he kissed along her neck, trying to soothe her. He hated to see her upset about all this ugliness from his family. He had hoped he would spare her from it.

“I know, I just can’t help thinking how lucky we are. How lucky I am. It would be easy for any woman to be married to that sort of man. I could have been her.” Molly took a breath to try and calm herself, now she could cry at the smallest encouragement where she used to never cry before.

“I would never let that happen to you, ever. I will never treat you like that Molly, you understand that. Don‘t you?” He turned her around and brought Molly’s face into his hands, looking her in the eyes. He hoped she did understand. To harm her would kill his soul. Her answering smile, that was the balm he needed, too overcome with tears to speak. They kissed and she decided that she would check in on Margaret and retire.

Under their care, Margaret would finally blossom, like an wilted orchid under the care of the right person. Once she was no longer ill, Molly noticed that she was quite pretty. Her thin, frail features were quite gothic. Like someone she knew who looked to be carved of Roman marble. Molly even noticed there was a curious, probing gaze from Sherlock when he met her during a case. He deduced and moved on. He was distracted by the case he was on, though he noted the delicate attention everyone gave her, especially John ever the doctor. But he couldn’t seem to figure when a large pair of delicate green eyes stood out so haltingly in his memory. When he saw her again he was taken aback, recognizing her immediately. He came to her side and was a regular visitor until she moved to the flat Lestrade had found her. A nice little appointment with an elderly woman that would look after her health and well-being. The situation suited her delightfully and she was glad for the motherly influence of the woman’s. Sherlock visited her frequently, whether Molly would call it love or not, she couldn’t say. No one knew about Sherlock in that regard. But he would visit her daily when not on a case until the day she left this earth, twenty years later. Right before the Great War.

When they buried her, Molly could hear Sherlock saying to John that it was a wonder she lived as long as she did, in her weakened state. Molly noticed his eyes were a little sadder and distant, after that. He would stare off into the distance when he thought no one was looking. But she knew then, what he must have felt for her. Knowing that Margaret had found affection, in whatever form it took between herself and Sherlock, was a relief. Molly had hoped that whatever turn the woman’s life had taken after leaving her husband that there would have been someone, something to make her happy. She was glad that there had been, surprisingly in the form of Sherlock.

 

\---

 

Christmas came and it was lovely, even Margaret was strong enough to enjoy it. She was overwhelmed not only by Greg and Molly’s kindness towards her but also their efforts to include her in the holiday. They thought nothing of it, of their easy kindness, she was family and it was the least they could do for family. Though the presents they gave her were last minute presents and slapdash at best she was moved by them and would keep the items she would receive the rest of her life. The evening of the holiday was a small affair, only the Watsons, Sherlock, Aunt Evelyn, Mrs. Hudson, and Dr. Hooper but it was a night filled with laughter. Even Sherlock put his deductions aside for the evening glad that Lestrade was able to soothe Molly after Maxwell had been there, and did enough damage judging by the new vase that decorated their hallway and the paintings that had to be hung again in the hallway. All turned out well for the holiday and they were all glad that everything seemed to be perfect. Only one thing was missing and Molly was anticipating the next year when she would be holding their new child upon the day. Hopefully by then the child would begin walking. Molly was looking forward to it.

Winter faded to spring and with the blossoming of life so did Molly’s waistline. The baby grew so much that Molly would swear she were having twins. She was astonished to find with a heady blush upon the apples of her cheeks that with her growing, burgeoning waste line so did Lestrade increase in his appetites and delight in her form. Molly thought she waddled through their home like a duck and was about the size of a beached whale. But Greg wasted no moment that they found alone to tell her of her beauty and how delighted he was in her figure. She was his Venus, as he would say. She rolled her eyes when he said this, she hadn’t known he was such a poet. He found more elaborate and rather thorough ways of making her whole body writhe yet not excite the child. It was quite the indulgence. Lestrade would even put aside going out on adventure with Sherlock, handing the cases to other detectives in his department, unless it was absolutely dire that he be present, so that he might come home and thoroughly satisfy his appetites. Greg supposed that to outsiders he seemed rather obsessed with his wife. Molly supposed this was due to the newness of the marriage. But Greg could only find pleasure in how her womb was such delightful evidence of the love they shared, continued to share. Once the baby started moving, he spent hours talking to her stomach. It would kick and flutter around her womb against his hands. Molly felt she were no better than a great oven baking a loaf of bread. When she would say these things, Greg would simply laugh and continue on talking to her stomach. The further her pregnancy got on, the more frustrated she became. Like any woman, Molly just wanted to have the child and be done with it. Nine months was all at once a long time to wait and no time at all. She had all the typical complaints, but she was so happy she doubted her happiness could possibly increase.

However on a hot afternoon in July 1892, it did with the birth of their daughter. She came into the world effortlessly, well you could call only a few hours of labor effortless. Molly could hardly thing so as she laid in bed. Genevieve Evelyn Lestrade, both named for Lestrade’s mother and infamous Aunt Evelyn respectively, was quite beautiful. When Mary - nurse to John who did the honor of delivering - brought the baby to a very anxious Greg, who was being plied with strong whiskey by his father-in-law, he immediately fell in love again with his daughter. Dr. Hooper encouraged the man to sit, he was afraid the new father would drop his precious new daughter when he became quite weak kneed. Along with the word that Molly was doing well, he was everything a new delighted father should be. The baby knew exactly what she was doing when she took his finger in her hand and looked up to her father. She thought this man very strange but liked him quite a lot it seemed. They shared a look they would often share throughout her life. His little girl, and he was wrapped around his finger like Dr. Hooper was wrapped around Molly’s and so many other fathers before him. “My little Eveie.” Greg smiled down at his daughter, her eyes dancing with merriment at all the fuss made over her. Mary had tried to take the little thing back from her father, who in his drunkenness was crying all over the little thing.

Mary and Dr. Hooper helped him back up to their bedroom and once they were sure he wouldn’t fall over or drop Genevieve, they let the new parents have a moment alone. Molly took the baby back with a teary smile, and Greg settled in bed beside his family. His family. He could hardly believe he got to say those words finally. He was so full of love on this day that he couldn’t help but laughing.

“What is it, Greg?” She asked cooing over Genevieve. She looked to his eyes and it warmed his heart that though she was tired looked as happy as he felt.

“Nothing, just… She’s so beautiful.” He said wiping at the tears forming in his eyes. He kissed her, he couldn’t help not kissing her.

“She is isn’t she?” Molly smiled down to her daughter rocking the little baby to sleep. It wasn’t long before father and mother fell asleep as well, the nervous excitement of the delivery was really quite exhausting. Mary popped in to check on them, only encroaching upon their peace long enough to put little Genevieve into her bassinette.

Molly and Greg in their new adventure of parenthood, doted upon their new daughter quite thoroughly. She was also quite the favorite of her grandfather, who took to little Genevieve like when his Molly was born. In fact, Dr. Hooper was rather transported back to that day, thinking of his wife. Wondering what she would think of this little angel in his arms, when the imp smiled to her grandfather in much the same way Molly and her mother would. She was a favorite friend of the Watson’s daughter. They played and would continue to enjoy each other’s company. How could they not when their father’s had such adventures with their Uncle Sherlock?

Unfortunately for Greg and Molly, she didn’t stay so little. She grew by leaps and bounds everyday, and indeed just like Molly thought. Come the second Christmas of their marriage, and Genevieve’s first, she was taking her first stumbling steps. Smiling and walking while holding on to Mrs. Weeks fingers, she walked to her mother and father. It was quite the Christmas present and her parents couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh!!! little baby Lestrade!!! So CUTE!!! I hope you're just as happy that they're doing so well now... 
> 
> Look for another chapter, soon I should think...
> 
> Comments and kudos are the bread and butter of the authors here, please be generous, don't be shy. It is much appreciated.


	23. When a Life Begins, Another Life Ends...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lestrade Family is blessed with another child, a son. But for a new life to enter this world, the price is sometimes high, too much it would seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished!!! Oh my... I finished the story!!! Now all I have to is post it for you all. I wonder how I should post it... all at once or over the next couple of days. I will let you all decide. Probably I should post it now so you all can finish it... phew. I can't, I'm so happy to have finished the story!!! Finishing a story is such a relief. It's not a burden but at the same time, I open myself up to other stories. 
> 
> I have an idea for a story of how Lestrade and Molly met during the beginning and up to where this story starts, and another where Sherlock sees Margaret and visits with her until the day she dies, I don't believe either would be very long stories. What do you guys think? 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 23**

**When a Life Begins, Another Life Ends...  
**

 

\---

 

_The Lestrade Residence_

_Autumn, London 1895_

 

\---

Three years, Greg could hardly believe it, how life had flown. Three years found Lestrade promoted to Chief Inspector. It made life easier for both himself and Sherlock, who now had the reputation with the help of Lestrade that his word was gospel. The entirety of Scotland Yard was made available to Sherlock, at his finger tips. No longer did Scotland Yard grouse at his presence, and he even began teaching his methods to the new recruits. He was getting grayer about the temples, so was Lestrade, Watson even more so. That was one thing Sherlock couldn't control, time. At least not yet, he was in the wrong generation for those kind of scientific marvels. But the impending industrial revolution would be just what science and culture needed. Still however, Sherlock now worried about his legacy, and crime would not stop just because he would eventually die. Oh no, that was why it was imperative that now not only did he try to educate and teach his methods but that he made them available to whoever wanted to learn them. He had no apprentice, but the whole of Scotland Yard could do more than just one person. Lestrade was pleased with the work Sherlock was doing, and he had turned out to be a rather good man, no longer making an entire room feel like an idiot just because they didn't understand his methods. As Chief Inspector he was a powerful man, but still the same boss as he always had been. A favorite at the Yard, the officers under his instruction would prosper. He’d see to it.

A promotion however didn't compare to the surprise that autumn brought with it. They celebrated their fourth year of marriage with their second child. Samuel Gregory Lestrade, a plump little beggar was the joy of his father. He was a strong little lad, crawling after his sister and talking before babies were known to, like all second siblings that wanted to be apart of their older sibling‘s games. Little Sammy as the family called him was no different. His little sister adored him, though her vigor and energy called her attention to other things. The infant could only entertain his sister for so long. But that would change as the child would age. Molly couldn't have been happier, even though his birth had been a trying one, and stole away her chances for more. She had a daughter and a son, and couldn't want for more. Sammy’s grandfather was able to see the little chap, and loved to see that the boy was strong. Molly tried now to see the fact that he moved slower than he had before and didn't reach out to follow his granddaughter around like he had years ago.

However with this new life, the price can be high. Molly tried to ignore the signs, but Mrs. Morris could not as she adored the doctor. He was so full of joy at the birth of his grandson, and seeing his daughter so settled and happy that his heart was overflowing. The excitement was too much for him and when he arose the next morning, he was overcome. His heart seized and Mrs. Morris ran all the way to the Lestrade Residence to get his daughter, she didn’t know what else to do. When Molly reached the door, he was on the floor gasping for breath. Lestrade came minutes later with John. He had suffered a heart attack, and John was able to stabilize him, but it was too late. He was positive the man wouldn’t last the night.

Molly remained by his bedside, refusing to leave even for something to drink. Lestrade unfortunately had to give her the news like Toby had ran out during the chaos. Mrs. Morris and left the door open, and he bolted, and was run over by a passing cart. Molly cried into Lestrade‘s embrace. When Dr. Hooper tried to get their attention she noticed he was smiling, a sad smile she had started seeing only recently. One that he had been giving her since she got married when he knew or thought he was unobserved. It’s a smile a man gives when he knows his number is coming up, and it was most definitely coming up now.

“Papa, please, I beg you. Don’t leave me!” Molly begged laying over his body, like she would when she was little. “I need you.” He patted her head, and wiped at a falling tear.

“I’m old and it’s my time love, but you have the grandchildren to take care of, and I know I’m leaving you in good hands.” Dr. Hooper looked to Greg now, knowing that he really couldn’t have done better for his little girl than the Detective Inspector.

“Dad…” Greg begged, losing his voice. He closed his eyes in pain, he didn’t understand why this was happening now that they were happy. He wanted the children to know about their mad doctor grandfather. He wanted them to learn about science and reason from the man, and of his wise, quiet ways. They weren’t going to, he held onto Molly’s shoulder as the doctor called out to his wife Genevieve, hoping she was waiting for him and closed his eyes. The two would keep vigil in the night as he breaths became lighter and he struggled to find the next one. Finally as the sun peeked over the horizon, they watched over Dr. Hooper as he breathed his last. Molly called out to her father, like a lost little girl. All she wanted was her Papa back, and nothing, not even Lestrade’s love could ever make it right again.

The family buried their beloved doctor next to his wife, his proper place. Death comes in threes, and this is just as true for the Hoopers. Just a couple months after the death of her brother, in her grief Aunt Evelyn died as well in her sleep. Her heart was too overcome with grief to last. It was sad times indeed for Molly, Lestrade knew little of what to do for her in her grief. He took her away from London, back to Dover, and loved her. That was all he could do. When they returned, Sherlock was begging for them to help him with a body. He was desperate for some assistance. It was then Molly decided that they would keep Hooper house as a place for Molly to continue her father’s work. She would continue on in his absence, as she had planned to do. It only pained her a very little to see her father’s room empty but still full of his things. When she was down in the labs, working around the familiar experiments, his notes, she could pretend that he was just out of the house and needed her assistance. However when Sherlock turned up on their doorstep, needing an autopsy, she was reminded that there was only her now.

While Molly did find happiness in her children, everyone took notice and would comment how Mrs. Lestrade wore black for several years after the death of her father and aunt. She felt the loss keenly, feeling herself an orphan and was only said to be seen smiling in the company of her children, or when she was alone with her husband. If the staff saw her crying alone in the library while Lestrade was out chasing suspects with Sherlock, which was a rarity now that he was Chief Inspector, they made no comment on it. It wasn’t for them to say what the mistress did in private. Lestrade hated losing his father-in-law, and Aunt Evelyn, without either of them he wouldn’t have ended up with Molly. He missed Dad a great deal. Never before had he had such a positive elderly influence in his life. To lose it came at great cost. Even though he got on before without Dr. Hooper, to do so now seemed to take a great effort. The whole that the brother and sister left upon their lives hurt a great deal.

It would take the passing of time, only time could heal such a wound. They did heal, and moved on, finding happiness in the new memories they created together, looking towards the future. Now that Molly and Greg had Genevieve and little Samuel, they could pull through. They could press on, knowing that their children needed them. Aunt Evelyn and Molly’s father would live on, in the saucy looks and laughter of Genevieve, and in the smiles and curious glances of Samuel as he examined the mechanics of his tin toys and blades of grass. Seeing the legacy that would carry on gave Molly the comfort she needed to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done!!!!!! One more chapter then the epilogue... Oh and then there's those one shots... Don't worry this story may be ending but I'm not finished yet!
> 
> Comments and kudos are the bread and butter of the authors here, please be generous, don't be shy. It is much appreciated.


	24. Life, Love, & Just a bit of Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, Loss, and Life... With just a little bit of Sherlock thrown in... That was the recipe for the Lestrade Family to find their happiness.
> 
> It has been quite the adventure has it not? 
> 
> But every story must come to its end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh!!! This is it!!! The last chapter... I hope you enjoy it.. We'll call this one for the road. But like I promised, this isn't the end! Believe me I have plenty of ideas rolling around up in my brain that you need not worry... 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 24**

**Life, Love & Just a Bit of Mystery  
**

 

\---

 

_The Lestrade Residence_

_Spring, London 1900_

 

\---

Lestrade came home late one night …er morning in the spring. The Lestrade family home was all quiet, Daniels dutifully stayed up to his master’s chagrin. He sent the man off to his own bed. He checked in on the children, smiling down at their sweet faces, innocent as angels, lost in dreams. He made sure their shoulders and feet were covered and then walked down the hallway to his bedroom, glad to finally be done with a rather long day.

He quickly stripped off his clothes, and settled beside his wife carefully in bed. He was getting old, trying to hold back the loud sigh of relief at finally able to get some sleep, not wanting to break the peaceful quiet that prevailed upon the room. His almost fifty years were catching up to him even though he still felt spry enough to chase after his little Indians on a Saturday morning. If his graying temples were anything to go by, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to this morning, he felt utterly exhausted. He was glad for his lovely, very tolerant wife however as she came towards him even in her sleep. Her curves were warm and forgiving, relaxing his cares and aches. He allowed her to embrace him, his name coming to her lips in a sigh, even in her dreams. She was glad that he was home finally. Greg quickly fell into a deep sleep, so he didn’t notice when Molly opened her eyes to see him finally in bed. Her eyes for all the love in them had a look of worry all women share, when they realize their strong men were being affected by the machinations of Father Time. It only worried her a small bit, he was strong still, but she worried that he was working so hard. He deserved all the relaxation in the world. And to enjoy his children. They were getting older everyday, growing like weeds. She kissed his brow, now thankfully relaxed, eased in sleep. She curled up further into his embrace, only satisfied when he cuddled closer into her. They slept until the sun was bright, well into the morning sky.

Genevieve and little Sammy opened the door to their parents’ room. Strictly speaking they weren’t allowed to come into their parents bedroom without permission but it was Saturday, and they were hoping for once to know that Father wasn’t going to back into the Yard like he had been doing. They missed seeing him in the house, and Mummy was always happier if he was there. They snuck in and stifled giggles as they noticed how affectionate their parents were together even in sleep, wrapped up in one another. These giggles didn’t go amiss by their mother’s intuition as she began to stir. Molly woke up and smiled to her children. When they tried to speak, Molly put her finger to her lips.

“Don’t wake, Daddy.” She whispered, looking down in relief to see that Greg was still asleep despite the giggling little sprites in their bedroom. “Where is Nurse Donna?” She questioned, wondering how they snuck out of the nursery.

“She was sleeping, and we wanted some breakfast.” Molly could tell from the look on Genevieve’s face that it was only a slight fib on her daughter’s part. She could hear the footsteps in the hallway that meant Nurse Donna was most definitely awake and most definitely looking to where her sneaking little charges had gone.

“Well go play quietly, and I’m sure Nurse will be awake directly.” Molly smirked to them knowingly. “Then its yummy toast, jam and a spot of tea breakfast. Then its out to the garden for an afternoon of play for the both of you.” Molly smiled down on them, thinking they would love to play in the sun today. At their apparent objections, Molly covered her mouths with her hands before they began to get loud. “I think your father needs some rest as do I, we’ll be down later and he‘ll be home for the day I promise. Now go my little nymphs go.” They nodded their heads, bobbled was more like it, and left the bedroom hand in hand. Her little darlings were quite the pair.

Regretfully, Molly felt her husband stir beside her, making a rise to get up even. He sat up on the edge of the bed. “I have to get up.” He sighed, massaging at the pain in the back of his neck. Too many hours at the office desk again. “Got to get back to the office. There’s some paperwork that needs doing.” He looked to meet Molly’s reproachful eyes. He winced, knowing she didn’t like how constantly he had been working of late. The legwork might be for the most part gone, much to her relief, no more hanging about crates, getting shot at, but for as much work as he had done before, being Chief Inspector brought with it a whole host of other responsibilities. But Lestrade sought to make the streets of London safe again, to the applause of the Prime Minister. That however, made for a lot of effort on his part.

“It’s Saturday. No you’re not. You’re going to lay down now, and go back sleep.” Molly insisted firmly. Greg hated when she used that tone that meant she wasn’t to be disputed.

“But I have to-” Greg insisted.

“You also have to take care of yourself, and my job is making sure that you do so. You’re going to lay back down and get some rest.” Molly encouraged pulling him back into the bed.

“Well one can hardly argue with one’s wife.” Lestrade laughed, kissing his adorable wife on her nose.

“Yes, especially when she never sleeps if you’re not there, I could do with some sleep myself.” Molly concurred with a yawn. He hated that she didn’t sleep if he wasn’t there, but it was true. Once you get into the pattern, its hard to be comfortable in any bed that doesn’t have your husband in it.

 

\---

 

It was well into the morning, almost afternoon when they rose again together. Both felt the bliss that a good rest provides. They woke together, laughing at having slept in, and they could hear the laughing of their children echoing their’s in the garden.

“Good morning, Molls.” Greg smiled reaching out to her for a kiss, looking a good deal less tired than the early morning to Molly’s relief. He moaned into the kiss when Molly deepened it. She was searching for something, quite obvious at she sat astride him, tossing her hair fetchingly in the morning light. There was more than just a little to entice her husband. It was years into their marriage and with the maturing of their marriage she had finally become bold and comfortable enough in their union to seek what she wanted instead of letting Lestrade’s passion be her compass. She was leading most of their encounters now much to Lestrade’s delighted chagrin. Greg delighted in her love that was almost damn near insatiable. When they could get time alone, she made every use of it. And when they couldn’t she made use of that time to, with quick assignations that kept him more than just satisfied. It was wonderful.

But these slow, lazy, in the spirit of their honeymoon dalliances, they were a rare gift. And it wasn’t Lestrade this time that made love to Molly, she showed him how much he meant to her. She loved him quite thoroughly, and he allowed her to use his person quite thoroughly, his fingertips digging into her hips as she sought his completion before her own. Something if he had a say would never happen. He would always see her satisfied before himself, but not this time, this time seeking out the completion of his pleasure was her own.

“Wait, please!” He warned as she encouraged him to finish. He couldn’t help his body thrusting to meet hers, carried away on the seas of passion. He tried to stop himself from finishing, trying to make a grab at himself, but Molly took his hand away, putting it to better use to leave delicious bruises on her bosom.

“No, I want to watch you, Greg. I want to watch you fall apart!” She cried in a gasp. This was what she wanted and she would pull it out of him. Now that she knew how. He moaned his head thrown back, watching her eyes clouded with lust, her saucy smile determined to see what she wanted from him. She watched as he finally came with a shout, head bowed back. He wrapped himself up in her arms stilling her movements until the aftershocks ceased.

Once Greg was finished, and softened until he fell out of her deliciousness, he replaced his length with his fingers, and used his talented fingers to bring her to completion. He played her like Sherlock played his violin, then Greg brought Molly to completion two more times with his mouth before she could take no more. They embraced one another in the aftermath of their lovemaking. It was a surprise to both of them, that even after all these years they could still find each other and it could be quite volcanic.

As they dressed shortly after, Molly was struck with an idea. “You know if you were to take a break, we could go on a holiday and do that every morning. The children would love to see the sea.” They hadn’t yet gone on a family holiday. The children were just old enough now to go she believed, and it was a good age for them to go being five and eight respectively.

“Actually, I was thinking just that. It was supposed to be a surprise. And it will be at very little inconvenience to ourselves. My brother is paying for it.” Lestrade announced fixing his tie in the mirror, as Molly was fixing her hair. She turned around and looked to him completely gob smacked.

“Maxwell? Wh-how? He wouldn’t possibly think of us at all.” Molly looked to Lestrade in shock.

“I didn’t want to tell you this, it didn’t really matter at the time. It was more of a relief really. I received a letter from a solicitor last week, I didn’t recognize the name until I realized it was the family name of the solicitor my father used, Forsyte I believe. My brother was ill, about three months ago. The prognosis apparently wasn’t good because he felt his mortality keenly. He wanted to reconcile.” Lestrade looked to Molly with concern. He didn’t quite know how she would take this news.

“And did you?” Molly questioned unsure of how she felt. On one hand, if the her husband reconciled and made peace with his brother she was glad of it. But on the other hand, after the things he had said to her. She couldn’t find herself pleased to know that the man would be in their lives.

“I did. He was very ill and weak however. A month after I saw him, he died.” Molly could tell that Lestrade did regret this only a little. He would have rather they reconciled sooner, that things had been different, to build a relationship that they hadn’t had in the past. Now, however, it was too late.

“And?” Molly wondered where this was leading.

“Well apparently he left us a good deal of money. It totaled about half of his fortune, the manor, townhouse and the rest of it all went to the boys, and rightly so. Even if he had left the properties to me I would have given them to my nephews. They’re no longer mine really, I’m a stranger to them. I gave a good portion of the inheritance to Margaret. She’ll be more than comfortable now. And the rest, well… thank you, Max, we’re going on a holiday.” Lestrade finished hoping Molly would agree with what he had done. Molly smiled and embraced him with a laugh.

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe him! It is all quite astonishing. Let’s go tell the little one’s about the holiday. They’ll love the surprise.” Molly was anxious for them to know that soon they would see the sea. Little Genevieve always talked of the sea.

They went out to the garden and indeed the children were excited. They had never been out of London, it was exciting to see the rest of England. They were delighted but were all at once even more excited to see their father when they heard that he would be home the whole day. He lifted them each in their turn, kissing them and doting on them. The family was enjoying their afternoon when the Watson’s stopped by with Uncle Sherlock. Little Emma and Genevieve played in the garden with little Sammy chasing after them. The adults all watched this little scene, and looked around. Looked at all the fullness of their lives together. And dear reader, find consolation in the fact that they were all, indeed, happy.

 

\---

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! the last chapter!!! But there's an epilogue my loves. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. Though its not quite as saucy as this chapter was... I don't know how that came about it just uh... happened that way.
> 
> We have to know what happens to our favorite couple... its the inevitable really. I'll post it tomorrow... Leave you with this for now.
> 
> Until tomorrow loves...
> 
> Comments and kudos are the bread and butter of the authors here, please be generous, don't be shy. It is much appreciated.


	25. Love Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story couldn't end there, like every story it needs one very last... 
> 
> Farewell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!! The last chapter, and I'm just a little bit sad. Choked up. Finished. Like I said before, I could do other things with the story, there were open ends that I could talk about, the beginning of Molly & Lestrade, before Sherlock points out the obvious. Or even Sherlock's relationship with the enigma that is Margaret Lestrade. 
> 
> I dunno maybe for a later date. We'll see. Until then... Look for other things, I continue to write and hopefully the words will never stop. 
> 
> All good things must come to an end. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 25**

**Love Eternal**

\---

 

_Highgate Cemetery_

_Autumn, London 1937_

 

\---

Molly stepped down from the automobile, it was black and red, covered in brass. She was now riding in these new contraptions more than a horse and carriage. A sign of progress, and a bloody nuisance her husband would grumble. If he only knew how many accidents occurred due to these uncontrollable machines. She smiled to Sherlock who handed her out of the car, Mary following suit. Both women smiled to each other, friends sympathizing, eyes sad and worn with age. Sherlock showed age himself, his face full of lines, his brow normally pulled down in thought showed signs of the action. His curls once dark and wild, were now grey and combed back. If he muttered to himself, called out to someone only to realize they weren’t there or forgot their names, neither lady commented. They were just lucky he could be here from Sussex and his bees long enough to pay a visit. He moved a bit slower than he once did, but he was still Sherlock, a walking stick the only evidence that he struggled to get around. Officially retired, the hole he left in London was great, both to Scotland Yard and the ladies he was with today. But he couldn’t stay in London anymore, not now. Not with the ghosts of the past following him around. He escorted the ladies through the park, until Molly followed the familiar path, while Mary and Sherlock followed another.

She came before the familiar head stone, laid in the ground. Gregory Reginald Lestrade died in 1932. Beloved husband, father, brother, inspector and friend, it read. It was quite sudden, for Molly it was like her soul was ripped in two. Half of her was missing, would always be missing without Lestrade by her side, as she wiped at the surface of the black granite, brushing aside the fallen leaves. She couldn’t remember the times before he was in her life, and now it seemed like a horrible dream she wouldn‘t wake from. She had cried so much already that feeling the tears running down her cheeks silently was almost a surprise as they fell on the letters of his name. She looked into the reflection of the stone and swore she saw his smiling face, with a gasp she turned around, there was no one behind her. She didn’t know what was worse, knowing he was gone, or her mind tormenting her with the thought that it had all been a dream, that they were still young and had all the time in the world. It seemed a silly thought considering how happy they had been but she just wanted the chance to live with him all over again.

It had been five years since his death but she still wore black. She would always wear black. Not to do so felt like she was lying to those around her about how she felt inside, her grief now was as constant as her love for him. It would always be there until she died. She remembered the day he died very clearly, Lestrade was eighty-one had just had his birthday a few months prior and Molly started considering every moment with him a gift. Their love more constant than ever as their bodies were falling apart. Molly being ten years his junior was assisting the grumpy old bugger around, looking after his health. Greg absolutely hated being fussed over towards the end. But Molly noticed far away looks, that he was sleeping more, and quickly lost track of what he had been saying. They had gone for a stroll in the park. It had been a lovely spring day, a rarity in London, to be enjoyed. They had been laughing and talking merrily, as it was when they were courting, and Greg had walked over to a trolley to buy some ice cream. All Molly remembered hearing was the sound of the change falling onto the pavement. A stroke, and just like that he was gone.

She looked up from his grave, bringing herself away from sad memories, back to the present and saw Mary and Sherlock standing before a similar grave across the way. She walked over and paid her respects to John. He didn’t live as long as any of them, but he had lived. He had joined the war effort, a well-seasoned military man, the king had called the men to arms, to fight for the empire. How could John refuse? As the great Dr. John Watson, he joined the effort to help save soldiers from dying in the trenches and on the battle field. That would be where he would fall, shrapnel from a nearby bomb taking him out. Mycroft tried to keep him safe, but there was only so much Mycroft could protect him from. He died with one of the highest honors a soldier could be awarded, both for his service to save soldiers from dying and for chasing after Sherlock Holmes in his mad adventures to keep the streets of London free of crime. His stone read almost the same as Greg’s, Dr. John Watson, the dates of his birth and death, below that husband, father, friend. However, very rightly, it told the world that he was a man of loyalty honor and respect. Mary rose from her kneeling position, and put her arm around Sherlock’s for support. “Stupid man, should have retired.” They both heard Sherlock mutter under his breath, before they were both guided back to the car.

 

\---

 

_1942 Five years later…_

Molly had just turned eighty-two, and with her birthday she lived to see the end of the second world war. It had been a week since the war ended, but spirits were high and London was still aflutter with the relief peace had brought. The future looked bright. Samuel and Genevieve’s husband Irving Paulson, came home safe, for which Molly was infinitely thankful, as well as Emma’s husband Everett Myers, it was a blessing few families would know during this time.

Molly found herself the center of attention, earning kisses from her son, daughter, their spouses and children. They had missed her birthday in the middle of all of the celebrations. But Molly wasn’t perturbed by it, it was good for them all to think on the future. It was only proper, she was an old woman, and couldn’t keep up with them all anymore. Once dinner was over and conversations around her seemed to fade out, no longer need her involved or asking her opinions, she felt a weariness she had never quite felt before set into her bones. She went to stand up.

“Mama? Are you alright? Where are you going?” Genevieve asked with her own daughter on her lap. Molly smiled wistfully at the sight.

“Oh nothing, dear. I’m just tired, I believe I’ll leave you, young people to your discussions and head off to bed.” Molly smiled to her children and the grandchildren in their turn.

“Alright. If you’re sure…” Genevieve tried not to look worried.

“Absolutely dear, goodnight!” Molly turned towards the familiar stairs and accepted the arm of the new butler, she didn’t like the young man but he was a decent sort. She didn’t remember his name and called him Daniels, even though Daniels had retired years ago.

“Goodnight!!” Her family called in unison from the table, she smiled, a rare thing since their father died. And they continued in their celebrations around the table even though their mother went upstairs to bed alone.

Once she was settled into her bed and excused the maid, she sighed, relieved to finally lay down. She closed her eyes, feeling sleep come easily. “Oh Greg…” She sighed, wishing he were there to see their family and how prosperous they all were, home from the war, safe. She was happy and could rest.

“Molly…” She hadn’t heard that voice since… Molly looked up to see Greg standing before her, just had he had at the Royale all those years ago, and he held out his hand to her. She rose from the bed and put her hand in his, all of her aches and pain gone. She felt young again, and looked down to see that infamous yellow dress. She looked down to the old woman on the bed, and knew that she was where she was supposed to be. The room faded away and was replaced with a room of curtains and windows, the sun shining through almost too bright to look at. Around her stood her family, her ancestors, Margaret, Aunt Evelyn, even her mother alongside her father. A waltz began, and just like that evening, Greg led her across the dance floor, with eyes for no one except his Molly.

Mrs. Molly Lestrade passed on quietly as she fell asleep with her husband’s name on her lips.

 

\---

 

_Farewell, dear Reader..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!! I hope you enjoyed that friends!!! I got a little choked up.
> 
> Thank you to all of my loyal readers that were with me throughout this venture. I'm so glad that you have all enjoyed yourselves, and to readers just starting our little adventure here, thank you, your loyalty will keep my story alive. 
> 
> Until next time... 
> 
> Comments and kudos are the bread and butter of the authors here, please be generous, don't be shy. It is much appreciated.


End file.
